TOW The Christmas Present
by Leondra
Summary: AU After London fic. Chandler takes advantage of the holiday season to win over Monica's heart. DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
1. Platonicy

**Chapter 1- Platonicy **

**Disclaimer: This disclaimer is brought to you by the number 6, which is the number of characters in Friends that I wished I owned. Actually, more than that. I want David, and Janice, and Mike, and Kip, etc, etc. **

**AN: Okay, I know I'm in the middle of another fic, but this plot idea could not be ignored. Plus, I'm now on summer vacation! So I have so much more free time.

* * *

**

Chandler Bing hated Christmas presents.

Well, maybe that wasn't _entirely_ true. He liked receiving them, after all (even if they generally consisted of sweaters from his friends and a hastily signed card from his mom), and buying them for his friends wasn't hard work; _they_ didn't care if he got them crappy gifts.

And it wasn't the holiday _itself _he had a problem with. He didn't have a monopoly on resentment toward all holidays- just the ones designed for people who had something to be thankful for. (But that was a story for another day.)

The statement needed rephrasing: He hated buying Christmas presents for Monica Geller.

It hadn't been so much of a problem before (she _was _one of his closest friends, after all, and therefore was labeled under the category _Doesn't Care if you give them a wire coat hanger for Christmas). _But things _seemed _different now, even if it was just because of their one-night stand in London that had never been mentioned again (or maybe it was a _product_ of his not-so-new-found feelings for her that were a direct _result_ of London.) The point was, tic-tacs and gag gifts just didn't seem to cut it any longer.

Chandler gnawed on his pen, glancing at the ticking clock, although he didn't really have to be there. It was simply another form of procrastination was applying. Maybe he should just get her a cookbook; she'd like it, and it would just be _safer_.

Except that she wouldn't like it. Her mother always gave her cookbooks, and so did the rest of her family, so Monica had grown to see the recipe book as a sign that someone either didn't _know_ what to get her, or were giving her a subtle hint to improve on her cooking.

Chandler much preferred her macaroni and cheese to the finest cuisine at most restraints, and preferred that Monica never believe otherwise. He knew how sensitive she was about the quality of her food.

…Speaking of people knowing things, Chandler _really_ wished that Joey had stayed oblivious to his (pathetically one-sided) crush on Monica. He had an obsession with reminding Chandler that he was interested in her at random, extremely inconvenient times. ('_Come _on_, it's so obvious! She's gonna figure it out eventually- just ask her out! What's the worst that could happen?'_). Chandler finally had to tell him that they'd already slept together in London, at Ross' wedding, but she'd been so adamant that it not be repeated that he was positive she didn't want a repeat performance. His words didn't have the desired effect- Joey continued with him encouragement. (_Seven times? Are you fuckin' insane? If Mon's done it with you that many times, of course she's not gonna say no- she's _already_ slept with you! Come on, Channy, it's the perfect situation!_)

It _wasn't_ a perfect situation, not by a long shot. Hearing Joey call him 'Channy' during his pep talks was extremely disconcerting, but far preferable to telling Joey outright that he wasn't going to do _anything_ about his attraction to Monica. The last time he had tried that particular method of getting Joey to shut up, the conversation had escalated into a shouting match that Chandler was sure could be heard over at Monica's apartment.

Where Monica would certainly hear Joey yelling at Chandler to ask her out, and draw her own conclusions from that.

So Chandler had sat (relatively) patient through the mainly one-sided discussion, nodding or shrugging only when it was absolutely necessary.

But seriously, _what_ were you supposed to get someone like Monica? Especially considering the circumstances. Everyone had noticed him acting strange since the wedding, even with the distraction of Ross' struggling marriage and inevitably violent divorce. Chandler didn't want to give her _another_ reason to think he might harbor feelings for her. Wondering a little bit (she probably already was) was alright, but not so much that she felt the need to give him the '_lets just be friends_'speech (_that_ talk was the scourge of mankind).

This gift was to have multi-faceted purposes. It had to say, '_I care about you and know what you like, but want nothing more than a continuing level of platonic in our relationship_.' Well, not in those words _exactly. _It was a sure sign that he was going mad when he started using words he made up to lighten the mood during Scrabble with Monica in an actual conversation…with himself.

So in a nutshell, make it subtle. Chandler could do that. As long as he didn't use any of Janice's romantic gifts as guidelines: so pretty much anything that didn't include customized candy hearts that read 'Jan and Chan 4ever.'

He was tempted to ask Joey for advice, but he'd never been the gift-giving type. The only one of Joey's girlfriends Chandler remembered him getting a gift for was Kathy, and he'd originally gotten her a pen clock. So Joey was definitely out.

Ross had a better track record for thoughtfulness, but not for subtlety. Chandler shuddered as he remembered the 'Crystal Duck' incident. Ross would also demand an explanation as to why Chandler was debating so fiercely over what to get his little sister.

If Chandler conveniently _didn't mention _that this gift was for Monica, Ross would probably misinterpret the condition of his relationship with the recipient and suggest something that said something decidedly _un_-platonic. Besides, even if Ross _did_ manage to come up with a good gift idea despite all the facts pointing otherwise, he would see who the gift was really meant for when Monica opened it on Christmas Day. The whole lie would blow up in his face, and Ross would most likely confront Chandler in front of everyone.

_'All right. So Ross is out then. _

_So's Rach; she tells Monica _everything _she deems relevant and/or good gossip, and the fact that I love her might possibly fall into the first, if not the second, category.' _

Chandler promptly fell off of the couch as the implications of what he's thought subconsciously sunk in.

'_Well.' _

_**…**_

_'Things got a little out of hand there. I _like _Monica. As in potentially more than friends, less than…love. A lot less.' _

Standing up slowly and painfully (he'd whacked his tailbone on the coffee table), Chandler attempted to tear his mind off Monica, and back onto Christmas gift ideas (for Monica, but his brain would take what it could get).

'_So…Phoebe. Phoebe knows Monica. _

_Monica: who I am a great deal less than in love with. _

_I know I don't love her; Phoebe knows I don't love her. It's perfect.'

* * *

_

**_"Chandler's in love with Monica _**

_**A pity she doesn't even know it **_

_**He tries to hide it but it's obvious **_

_**Chandler just stop…with the bullshit."**_

_'Okay, so there's a slight chance that Phoebe knows.' _

"Um, Pheebs?" Chandler asked warily, reaching out meaninglessly as though to stop the second verse from reaching his ears. He recoiled immediately when she abruptly stopped playing and glared up at him.

"Chandler, your name doesn't rhyme with _anything,_" she growled. He shrugged helplessly, running a hand through his hair and taking a seat across from her in a tacky purple chair as he tried to think of a solution to this new obstacle. This totally put Operation Disillusionment (in which he tried to keep Monica from suspecting _anything) _in jeopardy.

"Well, it doesn't have to be _my _name." he tried. "I mean, you don't have to _use_ it. You could use a- a pseudonym! You could _pick one _that _rhymes_ with a lot of stuff, and…it'd be _especially_ good if you ever plan on performing that song. In public."

"Chandler! No!" Phoebe shrieked, whirling around to stare at him properly. "I can't do _that_. Your name is your _essence, _your_ core_! The song won't make any sense otherwise!"

"Oh _goody_," Chandler muttered. "So my 'essence' was decided on by two raging alcoholics who had nightly escapades with men half their age? Don't _I_ get a say in what my _essence_ is made up of?"

"Oooh!" Phoebe shrieked suddenly, clapping her hands together. Michael jumped, startled. "That's a _great _idea for a song!"

"What? My _essence_!" Still frustrated with Phoebe's wacky beliefs as well as the entire situation, Chandler pinwheeled his arms, then winced as he accidentally whacked his hand on the edge of Phoebe's counter.

"No! That poor three-legged dog across the street!" She gestured toward the window. Chandler sighed for what seemed like the twentieth time in the last hour alone.

"Um, yeah…speaking of songs, can you-uh-_not_ write songs about me and Monica right now? Cause I really don't think it's such a good idea for Monica to hear that I like her from a jingle."

"They're not jingles!" Phoebe hissed, suddenly furious. "_I'm _not the one that writes jingles!" Chandler stared at her, slightly taken aback, and Phoebe calmed down with visible effort, twisting one of her oversized rings around her thumb. "Stupid Leslie," she muttered angrily under her breath, before looking up, suddenly businesslike. "You're going to tell her at Christmas anyway, you know."

"I- what? No, I did _not _know." Chandler raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, frowning at Phoebe.

"Uh, _doy_! The best way to express yourself is through song!" Phoebe beamed and stood up, setting her guitar carefully to the side. "Come on! I'll help you with the lyrics! And-ooooh! I can even teach you to play guitar! We just-"

"Phoebe!" Chandler interrupted in a slightly high-pitched voice. He wasn't planning on expressing his feelings to Monica _at all, _and certainly not through song, but he decided to break it to Phoebe gently- one disappointment at a time. Everyone was worried about her state of mind after she had to give up the triplets. "I already _know _how to play the guitar."

Phoebe gaped at him for a moment, but her expression soon turned to anger. "What? How could you never tell me? And I thought I was the _only musical one_!" She punctuated her statement by hitting him viscously on the arm.

"Ow!" Chandler rubbed the offending appendage. "Geez, Pheebs. I told you Ross and I were in a band. Or _someone_ did, over the past few years. So even if I _didn't_ tell you I played the guitar, you should know both Ross and I are '_musical_.'" Chandler used air quotes and adapted a high-pitched voice on the last word.

"Well, _yeah, _but, it's you and Ross," Phoebe scoffed. "It's _Ross_!" she amended quickly when Chandler glared at her. "He can't even hum!" Chandler nodded, sufficiently appeased.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'm pretty sure that Monica can sing."

"_Reeeaaallly_," Phoebe drawled. "Does she have a voice like an angel? Did you ever request that she sing love songs to you and-"

"_Phoebe_! Can we-can we _focus_!" Chandler muttered, blushing hotly. He immediately regretted it when Phoebe grinned, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet before plopping back on the couch.

"Okay! Play a song for me!"

"On this guitar?" Chandler asked doubtfully. He was fully aware of just how protective Phoebe was of her guitar.

Proving his point, Phoebe's jaw tightened. "Alright, _no one _touches my guitar. Play it on _your own_!"

"I don't have one. Not with me anyway," Chandler responded quickly, relieved. In truth, he hadn't played since before he'd even met Phoebe. His old guitar had gotten ruined in a flood inadvertently caused by Kip, his old roommate, and he'd never bothered to get a new one.

"Oh, yeah! _You're _great! A really dedicated musician!" Phoebe snapped, throwing up her hands in disgust. "Maybe Ross can't carry a tune in a bucket, but at least he has passion for his work!" Although Phoebe was obviously being melodramatic, she _did _have a point. Chandler had never really had any passion for guitar. He'd liked the clarinet when he was younger, but had been told it was too "geeky." He enjoyed singing, but only songs either by bands he loved, or ones he wrote himself. In his and Ross' college band, '_Way, No Way!' _Ross had written nearly all the songs, and he'd never related to _any_ of them.

* * *

Chandler never got around to actually telling Phoebe he wasn't going to take her gift advice. He'd spent the entire visit convincing her to not play her new song in public. 

Chandler groaned. Phoebe hadn't really helped at all with his gift-giving quandary. He was right back where he started, except that he was now forced to hatch an evil scheme to get the hard copy of Phoebe's new song and _burn it. _It also wouldn't hurt to develop the ability to do a variation of the vulcan mind meld and erase her memory of the whole…fiasco.

But, really, he should have known better. Although Phoebe wasn't as close to Monica as Rachel was, she had no qualms about telling the whole coffeehouse this sort of thing. Maybe asking Rachel _wasn't_ such a bad idea. She would at least _understand _why he didn't want to tell Monica.

'_And so the farce continues.'

* * *

_

Two hours later, Chandler still had no idea of what to say to Rachel. He'd taken a break and tried writing a poem (haiku actually), but it was so horrible that he went back to the honing of his speech. Well, maybe honing wasn't the right word, considering all he actually had was 'I have developed feelings for Monica' with a note to self to not say 'um' too many times or rush through it so fast that she made him repeat himself. (There was no need to prolong the agony.)

He was really beginning to regret this whole 'telling Rachel' idea, and was just about to scrap the whole project and go down to _Central Perk _for a latte. However, the fates seemed to have different plans, for Rachel entered just as he crumpled up his fifth draft and threw it over his shoulder in the general direction of the trash.

"Have you seen Joey?" she asked, after glancing around the room.

"On a date," Chandler replied automatically, because although Joey had never actually told him this, it was a safe bet. Not that it mattered- he was faced with a very pressing dilemma that Joey would have absolutely no say in, and Rachel couldn't go gallivanting off and leave him alone with his notepad.

_Gallivanting_? The stress really was getting to him.

Rachel looked puzzled. "But I just heard you talking to someone."

"I wasn't talking to anyone," Chandler said quickly. He had probably muttered excerpts from his speech out loud, but Rachel didn't need to know that.

"Okaaaay," Rachel said doubtfully, and turned to leave, kicking a ball of paper that had been Draft # 3 aside on her way to the door.

"Wait!" Chandler cried instinctively. Rachel paused, and he could practically feel her roll her eyes, probably thinking he was going to make another joke. "I, um, need your help with something," he mumbled, growing quieter with every word.

She heard anyway, judging by her Cheshire Cat grin that almost made him want to risk Ross or Joey's gift advice.

"With what?" she asked in a sing-song voice, the attempted casualness in her tone countered by her actions: bounding over to the couch and practically throwing herself onto it in her eagerness to hear any gossip. Things must have been really slow at work.

"With…gifts. Y'know, Christmas gifts. Gifts in…reference to Monica."

_'God, you're trying to be subtle. Not insane.'_

Rachel just rolled her eyes at his lack of eloquence. "We already looked for her presents. We can never find out where she hides them! They're not _anywhere_ in the apartment. We even searched _Central Perk _and your bedroom."

"Wai-what?" Chandler spluttered, his brief desire to correct the misunderstanding forgotten. "_Why my bedroom?_"

"Well, we figured she'd coerce you into helping her. She's got you wrapped around her little finger."

Chandler turned red and squirmed uncomfortably.

"Well!" he began hotly. "I'll have _you know _that…what you said is extremely… and earlier I was simply…asking for advice _adhering_ to Monica's Christmas present. Like what _I _want to get _her_."

Rachel smirked at him, slightly bemused. "Well _aren't we _Mr. Thesaurus today. And _adhering _to Monica, it's about time you've admitted you're in luuuuve with her!"

"_What_-how did you get that from what I said? All I asked-I just like-_not even_-really-we're-FRIENDS!" Chandler spluttered.

"Well, well, well," Rachel crowed. "The gentleman doth protest too much, it seems. You two have always shared a special bond."

"A bond of friendship! We are friends! That is our bond! Platonicy!" Chandler gave up and fell silent, leaning back into the cushions as a sign of his defeat. He knew he was eaten when he started using his new words in conversations with actual people. Maybe if he just _stopped talking_, it would fix itself. Because it certainly couldn't get much worse.

* * *

**The vulcan mind meld is a Star Trek reference. That's all you need to know. Please review! It'll make my day and give my inspiration to continue!**


	2. Who Doesn't Love Backstory?

**Chapter 2- Who Doesn't Love Back Story? a.k.a Sign Language For Dummies **

**AN: For those of you who don't know the exact timeline, it's around the middle of December, so Ross is living with Chandler and Joey (he's on sabbatical from work because he yelled at his boss for eating his sandwich.)**

**Disclaimer: Yea, I don't own Friends. I don't own Chandler or Monica or Joey or Ross or Phoebe or Rachel or even The Chick and The Duck! I don't even own Chandler's inner voice, because if I don't own Chandler, I can't own something that is _all in his head_!

* * *

**

"Oooh, I know! He should get her that to-die-for cashmere sweater we saw at Bloomingdale's the other day! You know the one-it's cranberry colored and it has that cute-"

"Rach, sweetie, he's not getting a present for you," Phoebe said, a little patronizingly. She was perched on one of Ross' numerous boxes, her feet propped up on the coffee table, while Rachel painted her toenails a brilliant shade of red.

Chandler slouched on the lemon yellow couch, feeling extremely out of place in his own apartment and hoping that they grew bored of the conversation before Rachel decided to try to give him a pedicure…again.

She, after informing him that he was in love with Monica, had proceeded to list the reasons why Monica "should have taken the hint" long ago (or at least why he should have.):

_"You offered to be her boyfriend in Montauk, and even _before that _you offered to get her knocked up when she was forty if she wasn't already married_."

Chandler hadn't thought that was a particularly good list: it was neither long nor very incriminating; but Phoebe, entering in time to catch the tail end of that line of reasoning, had added Chandler giving Kip a black eye when he'd first broken up with Monica, and the fact that "_they practically grope each other all the time; they're always cuddling, even when Monica's like, wearing a _towel."

Thankfully, they had gotten past that section of the conversation without Ross overhearing and offering to kick Chandler's ass. Chandler was having enough trouble with the new living arrangements; he didn't need the tension that would surely be added if Ross tried to murder him with a mattock.

The thought of Ross hearing was enough to convince Chandler that he _never_ should have told anyone about his Christmas present idea. It wasn't like it would really _work_, anyway. She saw him as the guy who peed on her, and a good gift wouldn't change that.

_'But it'll make her happy,' _Chandler's inner voice pointed out in a sing-song voice. Chandler was too exhausted to worry about the implications of The Voice coming back. He wasn't sure now why he had made such a big deal out of this, and Chandler again bereted himself for thinking for even a _millisecond_ that bringing anyone into it would help.

All it had got him was Phoebe and Rachel hanging out in his apartment when it was _already _overcrowded, Joey yelling loudly for him to "go for it" and the general increase in chance that Ross (or worse, _Monica_) would find out. Chandler was quite sure he would face rejection, but giving her a great present at least had him going down in style.

Chandler groaned out load. How had this even _happened_ anyway? Not the telling people about this: it had already been established that the reason for that and pretty much everything else that went wrong with his life was that he was a world-class idiot.

No, the question was: how had he managed to fall in love with Monica?

_'Um,' _The Voice pointed out (and Chandler could practically hear it smirking), _'you said love again.' _

'Did not,' Chandler thought defensively.

_'Hoo, boy, you did,' _The Voice said gleefully. Chandler scowled.

'Well, it's not like it _means_ anything. Saying or even _thinking_ "I have romantic feelings for Monica," or "I like her as more than a friend," is much more, y'know, tedious than just saying "I'm in love with Monica," even if that doesn't pinpoint my _exact _feeling towards her.'

_'Yeah, okay,' _The Voice scoffed.

'No. Really! Now…shut up, I'm trying to think.'

_'About when you fell in loooooove with her.'_

"Shut up!" Chandler snarled in frustration, not realizing that he had spoken out loud until he saw Phoebe, Rachel and Joey (_Joey? _When had he gotten here?) staring at him.

"Geez, we were just tryin' to help you out," Joey mumbled, obviously hurt.

"Yeah, Chandler! And if you don't like that, then we _won't_ help you. So…_Fromage Chapeau_!"

Chandler, Rachel, and Joey stared blankly at Phoebe. "What?"

"I _told you _to go eat a hat…so…GO EAT A HAT!" Phoebe exclaimed, obviously still pissed off. Chandler smiled despite himself.

"No…you said 'cheese hat.' That doesn't even make sense!"

Phoebe glowered at him. "Well, I could be talking about a hat made of cheese, and….since when do you even _speak_ French?"

"I don't. I know _some _words, _including '_cheese' and 'hat.'"

"Well, that's nothing! _I_ know Italian _and _sign language!"

"Where'd you learn that, Pheebs?" Rachel asked, hoping to lower the volume on Phoebe's voice. Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Well, Italian I learned from this guy I lived with in Prague, and sign language Albino Bob taught me when I first came to New York. You know, after my mom killed herself-"

"Yes, sweetie, we know," Rachel interrupted quickly. Chandler raised his eyebrows, deciding it was best not to ask about the 'Prague' comment.

"Do you really know sign language?" Joey asked with some interest. Phoebe frowned at him.

"I just said I did. Would I lie to you, Joseph Francis? No. But if you want proof, here's, 'Chandler loves Monica.'" Phoebe gestured towards Chandler, drew a heart in the air, and mouthed the word 'Monica' while pointing at Apartment 20. Chandler stared at her incredulously.

"Pheebs, you _do _know that's not _real _sign language," he pointed out. Rachel motioned for him to let it go. Joey, however, was nodding furiously.

"Yea, of course it's sign language! I understood what she was trying to tell me perfectly and she didn't say anything out loud!" Chandler saw Rachel roll her eyes as Joey continued. "Now how would you say, 'Can I have a sandwich?'"

Phoebe started a series of quick, meaningless gestures that were completely incomprehensible to Chandler, but was thankfully interrupted by Joey.

"Ooooh! I've got a better one; what's, '_How you doin'_?'" Chandler and Rachel stared at him in exasperation. Chandler wondered idly _how_ he hadn't seen that one coming.

Phoebe sighed. "Really, Joey. You can't ask me to translate _every time _you need to sign something."

"Oh come on!" Joey pleaded. "I need this- deaf chicks are just as hot as the ones that can hear me! Please, just one more."

"Yea, one more!" Chandler exclaimed sarcastically. "How do you say, 'You have impregnated my hamster, now you must pay the ultimate price!' in sign language?"

Phoebe stared at the ceiling for a moment, apparently missing the sarcasm and actually trying to figure out how to sign that sentence. "Now I _know _this one. This was the first full sentence Albino Bob taught me!"

Chandler and Rachel exchanged glances. Chandler was still trying to refrain from making another sarcastic comment (she hadn't gotten the _last_ one) when Ross came in, glum face barely visible from above a large cardboard box he was holding. Rachel, Phoebe, and Joey quickly headed for the door, realizing that Miserable!Ross meant he was sure to go into a rant about the unfairness of his sabbatical at any moment.

"So Chandler, we'll talk to you about that…work problem you have later, okay?" Rachel called before the door closed behind them. Ross seemed too preoccupied to ask what problem Chandler might have.

(_'How rude,' _the Voice sniffed.)

"So, what's with the box?" Chandler asked warily. Unless the box was full of ads for apartments Ross could move into, Chandler didn't even want to know. Ross' boxes had already begun to spill into Joey and Chandler's bedrooms, mostly Chandler's, since Joey's was already the smaller of the two and was housing the foosball table.

"Just some of my stuff from the museum," Ross relied with a failed attempt at casualness. He dumped the box on one of the Barcaloungers (causing Chandler to wince) and plopped down on the other one. "Donald called earlier, and I thought, you know, that they might want me to come back, but it turns out that I had just never cleaned out my cubby. I just went straight from the work therapist to the coffeehouse…well, I stopped at the Russian Tea Room and to get cotton candy from that guy by the subway stop…."

"Oh…sorry, man," Chandler said sympathetically, deciding not to touch the "cubby" reference. Now was _not_ the time. "But, hey! You'll be back on your feet soon, and you can move into a nice apartment and you'll get your job back-"

"I DIDN'T LOSE MY JOB!" Ross yelled, and Chandler threw up his hands in defense, raising his eyebrows to let Ross know how irrational he was behaving. "I'm on _sabbatical_!"

"Okay, okay, you're on sabbatical. Got it," Chandler muttered, and then stood there awkwardly for a moment, wondering if Ross would consider it "abandonment in his time of need" if he fled to his room. "Need help sorting that stuff out?" he asked finally, gesturing toward the box sitting unsteadily on 'Rosita'.

Ross shook his head. "No, it's cool. I mean, the sabbatical will end soon, and I really hate packing."

"I can see that," Chandler muttered, glancing around at the boxes lying in piles everywhere. Thank God Ross had gotten rid of the furniture at Emily's request. Not only would Ross have insisted on bringing it all to the apartment rather than pay for a storage room, but most of it was the cheap plastic stuff he'd bought after his divorce from Carol. (Although Chandler couldn't help but hope that large dragonfly sculpture that had hung on the wall of Ross' apartment was packed into one of those boxes. He had grown fond of that thing.)

"Okay," Chandler said over-brightly, feeling as though he should try and cheer Ross up, but at the same time knowing that nothing could snap him out of the funk he was in. "I'll just go…" Seeing that Ross wasn't listening to him, anyway, he hurried to his bedroom, collapsing on his unmade bed with a groan.

'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' Great. He was now addressing the voice inside of his own head not only as if it were an actual person, but as if they had both been transported into that cartoon _Pinky and the Brain._

_'What? That Ross has been using the word 'sabbatical' so much that it doesn't feel like an actual word?' _

'…no. That Ross is gonna kill me if he ever finds out about my feelings for Monica, especially in the state he's in right now. He practically bit my head off because of a bad choice of words.'

_'Oh, nooo. You're not putting this off. There's going to be plenty of things that can go horribly wrong whenever you tell her, and Christmas is the perfect time.' _

Since when had it been decided that he was "telling Monica" at Christmas, anyway?

His original plan was just to give Monica a nice present. It wouldn't technically be rejection, because she would never have to _know_ (although he could predict that he'd be feeling cowardly for _months_ afterwards). How had that plan somehow evolved to his giving a present and telling her about his feelings? Meddling, that's what. Of course, it had been his fault. He _knew_ that Phoebe considered herself the puppet-master of the group. So really, he had meddled in his own life by inviting them to meddle in it. And since you couldn't meddle in your _own _life, there was technically no meddling going on.

It made sense if you really thought about it.

_'Of course it makes sense_,' The Voice said soothingly.

'It also makes since to just _let it go_. I'm fine with being Monica's friend if telling her will ruin our friendship.'

'_You are most certainly not fine!' _The Voice was starting to sound disturbingly like Monica. He had heard her say those exact words in that exact tone when he had a bad cold just a minute ago. If he heard The Voice say "I'm getting you into bed right now…"'

_'And you remember the image that popped into your head when she said that!' _The Voice jeered. _'That alone just proves that you can't let it go. You just having feelings for her has almost ruined your friendship. you're always awkward and quiet around her and you two haven't talked properly in soooo long….' _

'Stop referring to me in second person! You're me!' Chandler argued, trying to ignore the fact that The Voice was right.

He _couldn't_ just let it go; he'd liked Monica for a long time; long before Ross' second wedding. He's liked her since the second time he met her, although back then it was pure physical attraction; not even enough to be considered a crush. When he'd answered Kip's roommate ad and moved in with him (coincidentally, right across the hall from Monica) she'd hated him for some reason, although she hadn't been able to shake the feeling of guilt for accidentally cutting off his toe. He'd been too busy trying to keep up with his job and living mainly on his own for the first time to worry about anything more than to gain her friendship. Besides, she'd already been dating Kip.

His crush on her had come back with a vengeance around when Joey moved in (what did anyone _expect_; with Joey raving about how hot she was, as well as nice and smart and a great cook?) and sitting in the coffeehouse for the first time (it had just been renovated from a bar) and trying to get over her was actually why he'd agreed to go out with Janice. (The fact that it was the first time a woman had asked him out was another reason.)

It wasn't as pathetic as it sounded; the crush hadn't spanned five years non-stop- it had come and gone. Despite Rachel's claim, he actually hadn't liked her romantically either when he suggested they be each other's backup (when they were both forty they'd get together and have a baby if they were both single) or when he said that he'd be her boyfriend if she wanted at the beach, although he couldn't deny feeling jealous when he'd thought that Pete might propose to Monica. (The reason he'd made such a big deal out of it was simply the memory of his crush- that and it had wounded his already fragile pride.)

He'd been heartbroken over Kathy, and when he was just getting over her when he found one of Monica's bras under his bead when they switched the apartments back. So from getting cheated on to an unrequited crush. Lovely, as well as depressingly typical.

It had been torture sitting next to her on the plane ride to London, and he'd almost told her of his feelings several times at the rehearsal dinner (how could _anyone_, no matter how drunk, think she was Ross' mother?) and then-- _then_ she'd come over drunk and kissed him. And more.

It had been useless to even try and get over her after that night. At the wedding the next day, he'd pretty much put his heart on the line, asking if he could come over that night as well. He'd pretty much stopped breathing when she hesitated, and couldn't stop grinning when she answered, 'Yes, of course.'

Well, he'd stopped smiling when Ross had said Rachel's name, especially considering Ross' slip of tongue resulted in no more sex. They'd agreed on a 'Not-in-New-York' rule, and Chandler was presently considering taking everyone on a trip somewhere out-of-state. He could say that it was Phoebe had never gotten her trip with everyone because of the babies.

Speaking of which, when Phoebe'd had the triplets- that was when he was finally able to admit to himself that it was more than a crush. She'd been staring at the places where all the babies were, and for a split second, when he'd glanced at the particular one she was looking at, he could actually imagine that they were looking that _their _baby. A baby that they would take home with them in a couple of days. It didn't help that the baby had blue eyes (Of course, he'd read somewhere that all newborns had gray-blue eyes, but it didn't stop his heart from beating double-time at the sight.)

That and the fact that she'd gone out with that nurse-man. It had only been one date, but it had still hurt. A lot more than it did when she was going out with Richard, or Young Ethan, or anyone else she was dating when he'd liked her.

And the worst part- the _absolute worst part _was, while things seemed horribly awkward and strange to him after that, everything seemed fine to Monica. She had no trouble talking to him after that last awkward conversation in her apartment when they'd gotten home. And he could barely even look at her anymore.

'That just proves it. If she was feeling _anything at all _towards me, she wouldn't be able to talk to me in the same way she always has.'

'_Well, she hasn't been talking to you in the exact same way. You talk to each other like you talk to Rachel; friends, but not nearly as close as you were before. And anyway, who has she dated besides that "nurse-man" and that blind date Rachel made her go on. Two first dates, and it's been 5 months! What does _that _tell you?' _

Chandler sighed and stood up. It didn't tell him anything; only gave him more questions. He left his bedroom quietly, sighing in relief when a quick scan of the room told him that Ross wasn't there. Maybe he should just go over there; have a real conversation with Mon. Not about relationships or anything; just about work and family. She'd complain about her biased mom; he'd whine about his dad. Like they always used to do; it was repetitive but therapeutic, and they always managed to make each other feel better.

He exited the apartment and crossed the hall, stopping in his tracks when he heard Monica shriek from inside Apartment 20, "WHAT AM I SUPOSSED TO DO!"

There was a vague murmuring from what sounded like Phoebe, but Chandler wasn't sure. This was an _apartment_ building; weren't the walls supposed to be thinner? Thank God Monica was loud, anyway.

"THAT'S NOT HELPFUL!" Monica's voice abruptly softened, and Chandler had to lean with his ear pressed against the door to make out what she said. "Come on, guys, if you can't help me I'll ask Chandler; he's been through this, hasn't he?" Chandler had no time to ponder what he'd been through that she needed advice with; as a large outburst of **No!**'s came from Monica and Rachel's. Rachel, Joey, and Phoebe's voices.

"What is it?" Monica asked, confused, and there was a long pause.

"Well," Phoebe said in what Chandler recognized as her 'lying' voice (much too stilted and loud) "it's just that he's gone through that only with Janice, and even though he loved her at one time, he never really _wanted _to get back together with her. He pretended to move to Yemen! And with Richard, he-you- he never annoyed you like Janice did Chandler, and…the question is, _do you _want to get back together with him?"

Chandler pushed off the door, feeling dizzy. It was obvious what had happened. Richard had gotten in touch with Monica; told her that he wanted to get back together with her. And Monica, well, she hadn't said yes yet, but of course she would. This was_ Richard, _the love of her life!

_'At least you'll save money for an expensive Christmas present,' _The Voice said, although it sounded shaky.

* * *

**My first cliffhanger! Yay! If you want to find out what Monica will do about Richard, if Chandler will still get Monica a special Christmas present (and if so, what will he get her?), please review!**

**Oh, and the reference to _Pinky and the Brain _was made because it was on in the 90's and it sounds like something Chandler and Joey might watch. If you want to know how the reference fits, Brain always asks Pinky, 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' when he's got a new plan to take over the world. Pinky always replies with something extremely random. I was like 8 when I last watched that show- how do I remember this? Who knows? Who cares? **


	3. GI Richard

**Chapter 3- G.I. Richard **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Yeah. Neither are G.I. Joe's. G.I. Richard's I guess, but you can have that if you want. **

**AN: You guys rock! 11 more reviews! That is the power that is the cliffhanger. I'm sorry to disappoint you and say that nothing will be resolved in this chapter. But you'll hopefully like Jealous!Chandler and MoustachedTree!Richard. Even though Richard isn't technically in this chapter (nor is Monica or The Voice, unfortunately) he's mentioned a lot. **

**Thanks to:**

**LucyGoose: Is this soon enough? The power that is my typing fingers rules all!**

**LilMondlerLuver: Yeah, Richard sucks! Don't worry, Chandler will bash him a lot! **

**MCEJBing: Yeah, it can't be good. Especially not for Chandler's self-esteem. **

**Fashion hottie: Yes, it is Monica and Chandler. Keep that in mind. I love Chandler too much to make this…Monard? See, Mondler sounds so much better!**

**Lupinsmoon12391: yeah, pretty much everything I have ever written was born when I should really be sleeping…sorry, none of Chandler's inner voice in this chapter! By the way, it's great to see another Harry Potter fan (maybe I'll write a hp fanfic someday….)**

**Dawn1: Who doesn't love Pinky? Or Brain. I mean, he's evil, he wants to take over the world, and he fits into most overhead storage compartments…. **

**Chan4Mon4EVA4EVA: I hate Richard too. I used him because he did meet up with her and have lunch with her at the end of season 5- I'm just making it a little earlier than it was in real life. And let's just assume, because she wasn't with anyone, Richard told her he loved her then. **

**Shanima: I'm making an effort to keep this light-hearted.**

**SFGrl: Whee! I love Chandler with a crush. I think my insane mentality is closest to Chandler's (very random, at least in the earlier seasons) so in un-angst-ey fics I can hopefully "do him" well. **

**Now, on with the fic!

* * *

**

The hero always got the girl.

Not "sometimes". Not "often". Not "just when the gods feel like it." No, always. As in, without fail. It was like an unwritten rule… the guidelines for any classic romance book. Anyone would be crazy to try and contradict fate's ultimate plan. Like they always say, there are three certain things in life… death, taxes, and the hero always getting the girl.

That would be excellent, if the hero weren't sophisticated, charming, _moustache_-adorned Richard, who could only be described as a cross between James Bond and the character that Colin Firth always played. With pretty much one solemn expression on his face, a happy grin making only a cameo appearance, yet somehow extremely loveable to the female population.

To add to his bad mood, Chandler tripped over yet another one of Ross' boxes. He went sprawling onto the carpeting, and model dinosaurs went flying everywhere. Cursing under his breath, Chandler hauled himself to a kneeling position and scooped up a handful of tiny stegosaurus look-alikes, prepared to dump them in the box (or throw them out the window).

Then he glanced in the box and saw that underneath a couple more layers of plastic Flintstone-era pets a camouflaged leg was sticking out.

No way.

Chandler grinned almost despite himself (even _more_ blackmail material for when Ross was feeling better) and plucked the army man out of the box, holding it by a shiny plastic boot. A G.I. Joe? Again, he had to say: _no way_. Of course, Ross _had_ spent an awful large portion of time trying to convince Ben to trade in Barbie for G.I Joe, but Chandler had just thought Ross was being his usual paranoid self.

And yet there it was. Scarily built upper body, camouflage jumpsuit, army goggles, and…a painted-on moustache. Chandler's smirk faded. Oh great: G.I. Richard. Maybe he should just give Monica _this_ for Christmas.

A completely immature and childish (and therefore completely the opposite of _Richard_) resentment took hold of him and he shook the doll viciously, still holding it by the leg. The goggles made a clattering sound as they swung against the plastic head, and one of the arms seemed suspiciously loose.

Chandler flipped the doll right-side up and walked it across the carpet. "Why, hello there, Monica," he said in a fake voice deeper than his own. "Don't you look beautiful tonight. If you would like to discuss any of your remarkable cooking recipes or to confess your undying love for me, I'll be over there in the corner, enjoying a martini: _shaken_, not stirred, and discussing with my fellow doctors the social satire that Mark Twain displayed. And isn't my moustache just splendid tonight?" Chandler attempted to mimic Richard's annoyingly carefree laugh, only succeeding in sounding like some sort of deranged Santa Claus. He was just about to launch into another mimicry when Phoebe and Rachel rushed in, looking unusually grave. Chandler hastily shoved the doll behind the leg of the coffee table and tried to look innocent. Joey hurried after them, a sub sandwich pressed to his chest as though he were protecting it from all the evils in the world.

Rachel looked around quickly, doing a double-take when she spotted Chandler sitting on the floor by the couch, nearly engulfed by boxes.

"Hey, Chandler," she said with an unsuccessful attempt at casualness, as though she hadn't just ran in as though being chased by masked gunmen. Phoebe had no time for such trivialities.

"Chandler!" she screeched. "Code Red! I repeat, Code Red! This is not a drill!" Joey stared at her as though she had grown an extra head.

"Pheebs!" Rachel hissed quietly. "I thought-"

"Don't you mean Code Moustache?" Chandler interrupted sulkily. Rachel winced.

"You know about that?"

"We live in an apartment building, Rach. The walls are paper thin. I'm surprised you're not still over there, helping her sort out this horrible dilemma. '_Oh, my soulmate is still in love with me! Oh, whatever should I do? Whatever should I do_?'" he squeaked the last part in a ridiculously high-pitched voice.

"Okay, Monica does not sound _at all _like that," Phoebe scoffed, rolling her eyes. Chandler buried his face in his hands. Joey, finishing off his sandwich, walked over to Chandler and set a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, man. They're not _soul mates. _You don't know that Monica's gonna go back to him. But you have to remember, _no matter what_, we'll always be there- Dude! Is that a _G.I Joe!_"

Joey picked up the action figure reverently, holding it straight in front of him as though to ward off a platoon. "Aw man!" he exclaimed, face bright with excitement. "This is Snake Eyes! Special Edition-mail order only! How'd you _get_ one of these? And _why _did you take it out of its box?"

"I didn't-" Chandler broke off, deciding that now was not the time to be discussing toys most commonly owned by twelve year-old boys. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"Joey's right," Rachel said, unfortunately steering the conversation back to a place that Chandler _really _wasn't comfortable with. "They were together a long time ago. Monica's over him now."

"Even if that's true, it doesn't mean she won't go back to him. After she first broke up with him, she spent six months getting over him. And then she bumped into him at that video rental and BAM! They're back together. He's the _love of her life, Rachel." _

"Maybe not," Rachel started defensively, but Chandler didn't appear to have heard her.

"Of course she's gonna go back to him! He's Mr. Moustache Man! Mighty Moustache! He'll just _swoop_ -"

"Actually, he shaved his moustache off, remember? Back when he and Mon had that "friends with benefits" thing going on," Rachel reminded him.

"Yeah, but I was sure he couldn't live long without his 'secret weapon,'" Chandler mocked, making a weird hand gesture that Rachel would have found amusing under other circumstances.

"Yes, well, he's still free of facial hair…except for his eyebrows," she added hastily, correctly interpreting the hopeful look on Chandler's face.

"Yeah, okay, but- wait a minute! She actually saw him?" Chandler hadn't actually thought Richard had just called up out of the blue- he'd actually been trying to _avoid _thinking about how they met up again- but in all those chick flicks, the hero and heroine meet up, the heroine falls in love at first sight (or, in Monica's case, falls 'in love again' and 'first sight in a couple of years.' But_ still_). He'd never heard of falling in love at first hearing.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything," Phoebe said consolingly.

"No, it's okay! Really! It's not like this _changes_ anything."

Joey, Phoebe, and Rachel exchanged looks of relief. "Good! Exactly! You can still tell her how you feel."

"What? No! I meant that it doesn't matter whether or not he called her or they actually saw each other. The fact that she talked to him is enough. _That- that _changes everything.

"No, it doesn't! It changes nothing!" Phoebe said wildly. Joey looked stricken.

"So you're not doing the Christmas present thing? You're not going to get her a Christmas present?" he asked in horror, voice cracking as it usually did when he was upset.

"Of course I'm gonna get her a Christmas present!" Chandler snapped irritably, getting to his feet at last and starting to pace in front of the tv. "A good one. Mon'll love it. She'll laugh, she'll cry, she'll forget about it as soon as she opens Richard's, which will naturally double as a 'look at us getting back together!' present. But she can't _ever _know how I feel about her. She wants to get married, have kids, the whole shebang. And she can't do that with some loser who cracks too many jokes and has delusions of grandeur from one-" Chandler stopped abruptly, realizing that neither Rachel or Phoebe were aware about that one _amazing _night in London. Luckily, both girls seemed too immersed in pity for him to notice his slight slip. "And she wants to get married to someone like Richard," he continued. "She'll have a huge wedding with ice sculptures of eye doctor tools, live in Richard's grown up apartment, drive around in his Porsche, eventually move to the suburbs when they have kids, who will be running around wearing moustaches and carrying Wonder Mops…."

"I hope that if they have moustaches, they're at least boys," Rachel joked, trying to lighten the mood. Chandler's expression didn't change. Rachel wished she would stop pacing; it was beginning to get annoying.

"Or they'll just climb up Richard, Super Husband-slash-Father, like the big tree he is!" Chandler finished his rant and sunk onto his Barcalounger.

"Chandler honey," Rachel said gently, not wanting to get him started on another rant. "I know you're hurting, but you're Monica's best guy friend-"

"Hey!" Joey protested, but an elbow in the ribs from Phoebe caused him to fall silent (as well as almost lose grip on the Snake Eyes figurine).

"-And she's told me she's missed the talks you two always used to have."

"Yeah, but _now_ she's gonna want to talk about _Richard_, and whether she should get back together with him. Don't try and deny it- I _heard_ her say she wanted to ask for my opinion. And I just can't give her it, because I want her to be happy- but with me. And something tells me that's not the advice she's looking for."

Rachel didn't have an argument for that.

"And Richard's a good guy, y'know? He's like James Bond, with his reading glasses and his suits and stuff. I can never find a suit that fits me, and I can't even wear sunglasses without looking like a dork. _Sunglasses_. It's not that easy to look like a dork in sunglasses."

"Chandler, I've seen those sunglasses," Phoebe said crisply. "And those are just very sucky frames. And, you know, you're much funnier than Richard. They never had very good comedy writers for those James Bond movies, and you're like the poster boy for stand-up comedy."

Chandler smiled sadly. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Pheebs. But it doesn't matter. Mon's _not looking _for funny. She's looking for-"

"I know what she's looking for," Rachel interrupted. "Funny may not be the _only _thing she's looking for, or the main thing, but it's pretty high on the list. She's also looking for a sweet, kind, and caring guy _who gets along with her brother_. Hello? You _so_ meet all those qualifications, and more."

"Ross will kill me if he ever finds out I like Monica. So technically, getting along with him will become untrue if he ever finds out."

"And you're more in-shape than Richard is," Rachel said brightly unable to make a case about _that_. Ross, as everyone knew, could get very overprotective. Chandler raised his eyebrows.

"Are you kidding me?" Rachel pressed on.

"Okay, so maybe not better in shape, but, you know, you can probably out-run him. Even with that horrible lung-capacity of yours, you've also got that permanent caffeine-induced energy going for you."

"Yeah. You're like the Energizer Bunny," Phoebe added helpfully.

"And Richard's _boring_!" Joey screeched, "You're not boring! Richard can _act _like James Bond, but James Bond without the action-movie setting is pretty dull, Chandler."

Chandler scowled moodily, folding his arms across his chest. "_Monica_ doesn't seem to agree. Even if he shows less emotion than those rich British snobs, they still manage to get along perfectly. Like, _when _Monica tells Richard she still loves him as well, he'll do a song and dance of joy, which _for him _means bouncing slightly up and down on the balls of his feet and giving a small cough. _But Monica-" _

"Chandler, that's ridiculous! First of all, a song and dance, for Richard, would be what a song and dance is to all of us. Not that he would ever _do one, _but still. And she gave no sign of saying yes to him when we talked to her. He might have been the love of her life once, but you can have more than _one_ of those. And anyway, those impersonations were kinda not fair. Like he couldn't do the same sort of thing- '_Oh, I'm Chandler! The next big step in a relationship with a person who doesn't know there is a relationship: Christmas presents! Oh, wait…commitment…can't breathe!'_"

"Pheebs, kinda not helping!" Rachel snapped. Phoebe dropped her impression, looked sheepish.

"Sorry, Chandler. It's just annoying when you keep putting yourself down. You're a great guy, you just have to stop making fun of Richard. It doesn't make you look any better in Monica's eyes. Or ours."

Chandler sighed, threading his hands through his hair as he got up and leaned against Ross' 'fossil' box (or 'designer rocks', as Chandler liked to call them). "But it's true, Pheebs. Not that he doesn't show emotion, but that he is the love of her life. And she is _apparently_ the love of his. What am I to compete with him? He's…suave, debonair. I'm not even sure what that second word means! She doesn't mind when he smokes cigars, because, let's face it, they're much cooler than cigarettes. And he's- he's immortalized in an action figure!" Chandler gestured wildly at the so-called G.I. Richard that Joey was still clutching tightly.

"Okay, got all that but the last part," Rachel said, and Joey and Phoebe nodded along in agreement. "Not that we agree with it," she added hastily.

"Yeah!" Joey said supportively. "_All kinds _of smoking sucks!"

Chandler closed his eyes and forced himself to count to ten. With all the stress, he _really_ needed a cigarette right now. Nothing was so as comforting as hearing that crinkle of cellophane and ripping open a new pack, extracting a fresh cigarette, and inhaling smoke until the nicotine made your head explode. He had started smoking again about a month after London, but after the initial 'welcome back into my life' celebration, he'd managed to cut it down to a pack a week with some effort. However, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't sneak out for a smoke now, with his three loyal yet incredibly annoying friends looking at him as though he had just been placed on Suicide Watch. They'd decide he was going to try and beat up Richard or something equally ridiculous if he said he was going for a walk.

A fourth (less loyal, seeing as he was completely out of the loop here) and more annoying (considering he was in possession of the air purifier, which sounded like hundreds of mosquitoes buzzing in perfect synchronization, and the cardboard boxes, which seemed to me multiplying every time Chandler blinked) walked in.

"Hey, guys. What's up?"

"Well, breaking news is that one woman loved having children so much she did it 69 times! Her identity is unknown and whether or not she lives in a shoe and does not know what to do is uncertain," Chandler exclaimed in his best tv-announcer voice, effortlessly slipping back into his role of sarcastic, completely carefree friend.

'And the world will never know.'

"See? Richard could never come up with stuff like that," Phoebe hissed in Chandler's ear as she made her way to the door. In a louder voice she added, "Well, I better be going. I have to get to work."

Ross gave her a strange look. "Pheebs, it's Sunday."

"Yeah, well, there's this one client that missed his appointment yesterday. I wouldn't bother, but he's offering 100 dollars an hour and I need the extra money."

"Yeah. Me and Joey are going to go and see how Monica's doing," Rachel supplied.

"Joey and I," Ross corrected. "Would you say, 'Me going to go?'"

Rachel glared at him. "ME going to leave now." And, with a last discrete look at Chandler, the three of them left. Ross glanced sideways at Chandler.

"So, I'm going to assume they filled you in about the whole…Richard thing." Chandler nodded dumbly. "It's a little out of the blue, isn't it? I mean, him asking her to _marry _him?"

Suddenly the air purifier didn't seem strong enough, as Chandler proceeded to become the first person in history to choke on air.

"Wai-what?"

Ross looked startled. "Yeah, they didn't tell you?"

"Not the marriage part," Chandler muttered, deciding not to get into the part where he'd been eavesdropping. That would raise unwanted questions. "Just the part about him still loving her, and wanting to get back together with her." They had probably thought that Chandler _had heard_ that part; he had mentioned Monica and Richard getting married during one of his monologues. But that was only because it was something he could definitely see happening. It was an entirely different matter to know that if Monica said yes, it wasn't just to a relationship. It was a no-turning-back type of thing.

"Well, Richard asked Monica to marry him," Ross said unnecessarily.

"Yeah, Ross, I got that," Chandler snapped. God, he needed a cigarette.

* * *

**AN: Yeah, I know, I'm a horrible person. But I _promise_ Monica and Chandler will actually talk to each other in the next chapter. Promise. I know nothing about G.I. Joe's so the special edition/mail order thing was something I made up, and if it's true, it's just a coincidence. I don't know if Ross would like G.I. Joe's but I know Joey does from the episode where Ross is trying to get Ben to play with one of those instead of a Barbie. Please review! Please- or Monica will say yes to Richard and Chandler will get Monica a coat hanger. **


	4. The Christmas Tree Fiasco

**Disclaimer: Leave me alone! We all know it's not mine! Can't you just let me wallow in my misery? **

**AN: This takes place the following morning. So Monday morning. Not that it really matters. **

**SFGrl: Well, I remember a scary amount of stuff about quite a few things that I can't even blame my siblings on. Cuz I don't have any…oh well.**

**LucyGoose: It would be very cruel to write it with a pairing other than Mondler in the end, wouldn't it? Well, keep reading to see how cruel I really am. **

**LilMondlerLuver: I've already got it planned out (what he's gonna get her). It's not jewelry, sorry, but it's also not a wire coat hanger. **

**Tilulation: I also love it when he smokes. It's a filthy, cancer-causing habit that I should really hate him doing, but Matthew Perry looks so sexy doing it…sigh**

**Lupinsmoon12391: My computer also sucks. I am in deep sympathy. **

**DanielFactoid: Of course I don't mind…love your new fic, btw**

**Dawn1: Well, it's fun to make fun of Richard through Chandler…and I held back with the "Richard is a big tree" insults that are usually used a million times in fics. I only had one reference to that. I like Colin Firth, but he really helps along the "British are aloof and snobby and emotionless" stereotype. **

**mistymidnight: Oh, I also liked Richard up until he almost ruined Chandler's proposal…it's just that Chandler doesn't like him anymore- not now that he likes Monica. **

**Also thanks to: fashion hottie, MCEJBing, Julia, Wendelin The Weird, Lindsey, Chan4Mon4EVA4EVA, and writergal90. You really inspired me to finish this chapter (I suck at writing Monica!) Now on with the chapter!

* * *

**

'_Ooh, it's awkward_,' The Voice whined. '_It's very, very awkward_.'

This was, unfortunately, true, and not just a result of Chandler's paranoia. Monica was staring expressionlessly at her plate, doubtlessly still torn about what to tell Richard, and Ross was staring moodily out the window, still upset about being on sabbatical. Phoebe and Joey had at first been engaged in a spirited argument about whose Scooby Doo impression was better, but had since shut up and joined Rachel in staring from Monica to Chandler and back to Monica in complete fascination. There was no need for Chandler to wonder why they were so spellbound with the two of them. The only question had had was since _when_ had they become the new Ross and Rachel?

'_Since you started acting like Ross did in that 'Crystal Duck' phase,' _The Voice reminded him snidely. Chandler sighed and tapped out a rhythm on the tabletop, stopping when the measure started to sound too much like the clacking of a keyboard. He had been mercifully spared from that sound all weekend, and _really_ didn't want the tempo beat into his brain one minute earlier than necessary.

"So, uh how's it going at _Alessandros_?" Rachel asked Monica when the absence of the usual banter had become too much to bear. Monica paused before answering, and Chandler took the opportunity where everyone's was off him to stare at her. Bent over her omelet, with the sunlight coming in from the bay window and glancing off her hair, she looked vulnerable and very fragile. When she finally answered Rachel, her voice was slightly hoarse.

"Horrible," she said, poking listlessly at a bit of egg with her fork. "Someone put a _rotting shallot_ into the tomato soup on Friday, and it tasted _awful. _I was, naturally, blamed."

Everyone made the obligatory sympathetic noises. Chandler stared at his orange juice. He had always liked pulp, but now it suddenly looked inedible. In fact, everything on his plate seemed nauseating, and he abruptly got to his feet, making everyone else jump.

"Well, I'm off to work," he said brightly, straightening his tie and ignoring the dubious looks. And rightly so; he hardly ever went in before 9:30, and it was barely 8:00 now. "Big report due today. Weekly statistical analyses for the systems," he added, not caring whether or not that made sense. It wasn't like any of them actually _knew_ what he did.

Chandler turned quickly on his heel and left, feeling very conscious of everyone's eyes on his retreating back. Why were they staring at _him_? Did Ross, or worse, _Monica_ guess that he was jealous of Richard? Did she know that he regretted the 'Not in New York' rule deeply? Had Rachel let anything slip? _Why would she do that_? Why…_why_ was he _actually heading _towards work?

He could go _anywhere_- there was obviously no such report due-the promenade, the marina, the Statue of Liberty…. He could take off work and no one at the office would care; they probably wouldn't even notice he was gone. The last time he'd skived off, he hadn't even _bothered _to call in sick. Chandler could finally go to all those places he'd never had time to explore before. He could visit the Met, the wax museum, the zoo (The Bronx one if he was feeling adventurous) buy a soft pretzel and masquerade as a tourist…the possibilities were endless.

Chandler shrugged and headed off to _Central Perk_.

* * *

Chandler winced as he spotted Monica sitting on the couch the four of them had claimed as their own years ago. The two chairs beside it had come in handy when the group expanded as first Joey than Rachel joined. Now, however, she seemed to be sitting alone, nursing a gigantic mug (_Central Perk's _trademark).

_'Oooh, smart one. Go where all your friends who don't have office hours (the same ones you just lied to as an escape) go. Brilliant.' _

He was about to turn around and leave when Monica happened to look up and catch sight of him. The way her expression brightened immediately when their eyes locked was enough to propel him over to the couch, ignoring the protests of what he would later recognize as 'common sense.'

"Hey, Mon," he said, sitting next to her as his fingers once again protested against the lack of a cigarette secured in their grasp. She smiled back, looking confused.

"Hey, yourself. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Aren't I always?" Chandler remarked with a short laugh, but one look at Monica's now suspicious face told him that wasn't going to cut it. "Well, I realized the report isn't due until noon," he explained. "I can type fast under pressure, and anyway, I finished most of it working overtime last week."

"Overtime?" Monica remarked skeptically, and Chandler smiled sheepishly.

"Working six hours instead of four," he remarked with a shrug, and she laughed softly. These were the moments he lived for. Sitting here with Monica killing time beat staring at spreadsheets until his brain exploded by _far_.

'_Well, Richard is probably at work right now. He's very responsible.' _

Chandler's smile faded. He had actually been starting to consider The Voice as a reliable source of advice. If the stupid thing would stop voicing his worst fears….Then again….

'Right as usual, King Friday,' Chandler remarked cynically. Richard was probably taking prescriptions right now, a James Bond soundtrack playing in the background. And- hang on. Wasn't _Monica_ supposed to be at work right this very minute? Monica the Stickler of the rules, who probably had held the perfect attendance record all through her elementary, middle, and high school years?

"Aren't you supposed to be working, too?" he asked her mock-sternly, and she stared guiltily into her coffee mug.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they can do without me for one day. I've _seen _them make perfectly horrible appetizers on their own before. And I'm _sure_ they can still find a way to blame me." Her voice grew high-pitched, and Chandler patted her comfortingly on the arm.

"Mon-" he started, but she shook her head impatiently.

"No, it's fine. The pay's good, and some of the crew have started to warm up to me. The Maitre'd has been nice, and that's got some of the others to back off. I just…needed a break, even if for only one day."

"I know what you mean," Chandler said, paused, than corrected himself with a chuckle. "Well, no I don't. I haven't worked a full eight hours since 1995."

Monica laughed again. "We haven't hung out in the longest time, Chandler," she informed him. Not that he needed reminding; the last time they'd "hung out" alone without any awkwardness had been at the rehearsal dinner in London. "Let's do something today. Just the two of us."

"Really?" Chandler asked, momentarily pleased. But then he remembered. Monica had wanted to talk to him about Richard, hadn't she? She was probably seizing the opportunity now. She didn't _really _want to hang out with him.

But he couldn't very well say no. He was just her friend- someone she could tell all her secrets to. Someone she could confide in about her crushes and relationships, while he sat there with a plastic smile on his face.

That was just the way things were. It wasn't her fault.

Of, course, it didn't help that he didn't _want _to say no, no matter what hidden motive Monica might have.

"Sure," he said.

* * *

Okay, so maybe Chandler was being needlessly paranoid. As it turned out, Monica was taking advantage of his tree-hefting skills instead of his "friendly advice" ones. Monica had dragged him on a wild goose chase to find the biggest tree ever. Wild goose chase because the "biggest tree ever" turned out to not fit into the apartment. They were forced to raid Joey's toolbox and hack off the top of the tree, since Monica refused to take the tree back and face the smirking salesman who had advised they buy the small spruce in the first place.

Then there had been the problem of actually _putting up _the stupid thing. The fancy metal stand Monica usually used proved to be too small for this year's trunk. They had to make do with the crude wooden one Kip had left behind when he moved out. It had a broken prong, and the tree tilted dramatically to the left no matter how tightly he tried to secure it.

"To the _left_ Chandler! It's still _tilting_! No, not _that_ far- about an inch or two. _An inch, not a whole foot!" _

Did Monica _realize_ how hard it was to judge how much "an inch or two" was when you were kneeling awkwardly on the rough carpet, prickly pine branches scraping your face and arms, and fingers clenched painfully from their lock on the large trunk? Not to mention his burning palms scraping against the rough bark, and _something_ dripping from _somewhere _into his collar!

"_Now _you have to move it _back _to the right," Monica informed him, voice tinged with impatience. "We'll do this slowly- a little bit at the time. Right. A little more. Right. _Right. Right! **Right**!"_

Monica's voice rose in pitch and volume with every '_right_,' and Chandler was quickly growing frustrated. His suggestion that they go out and buy a new stand was met with derision: Monica had waged war against the uncooperative stand, and throwing it out and getting a new one would mean that she had lost.

"No! Not that much! About an inch to the lef- no, the right again. To the _right! To the right!_"

"What do you think I'm doing!" he roared back, nose itching from the strong scent of pine.

"Well, I _don't know _Chandler! But it's _certainly not-_"

At this point, Chandler's grasp on the tree slipped, and he barely had time to dive out of the way as it came crashing down, along with the last meager scraps of his holiday spirit. It narrowly missed the kitchen table, but as Chandler got to his feet slowly, he bumped his head on the end table and knocked over a lamp. Chandler tried not to look at Monica; she was probably having an embolism right about now.

He took a deep breath in preparation to deliver an incomprehensible babble of an apology, but was interrupted by Monica's gasp. Was she having a very delayed reaction or something?

"Chandler!" she exclaimed in horror. "Your _hands!_" He looked up, first at her worried face, then followed her shocked gaze to his hands. He was mildly surprised to see that his were palms raw and red from his (literal) brush-up with the tree.

"Here, let me get some antiseptic, okay?" Monica instructed, leaping into Florence Nightingale Mode. She gestured toward the couch (presumably meaning that he go sit on it) before racing off to the bathroom like a gold medal depended on it.

Chandler peered worriedly after her as he sat down on the couch, a siren blaring in the background. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, wincing at both the pain in his hand and the pine needles that became dislodged with the motion.

'_You must've looked like an idiot_,' the Voice sniggered.

'You. Are. Me,' Chandler thought exasperatedly.

_'I (unfortunately) can't control the things that you do or the words that come out of your mouth, so I might as well not be.' _

Chandler scowled at his hands. He didn't see why Monica was making such a fuss; they didn't look _that_ bad. Well, they _did_, but it wasn't as bad as it look-well, _that_ wasn't true. They hurt like _hell_.

Maybe he should just let her apply the antiseptic before he had to get them amputated.

Speaking of which, _what was taking her _so long?

Chandler's eyes were drawn to a gaudily-wrapped box lying next to the tv set. Since when did Monica leave presents in such careless places? There was _never_ anything lying next to the tv set. Even the remote and tv guide were housed in the cabinet below. Curiosity getting the better of him, Chandler stood up and moved in for a closer view. The box was about the size of the one his Gameboy had come in, although more flat. He leaned over to squint at the tag, starting back as though he had been burned when he made out the tag: _With love, from Richard. _

'_Oh dear God,' _The Voice groaned. _'Here we go again. At least we managed to get through this afternoon without one Richard thought. And that's a miracle, considering the opportunity for some 'Richard-tree' comparisons.' _

'Well, of course he's gonna get her a Christmas gift,' Chandler told himself, still staring at the present. 'I shouldn't _be_ so surprised….Much better wrapped than I could manage,' he added sulkily.

_'Well, at least we know it's not an engagement ring,' _The Voice said dryly.

'Unless, it's one of those things where he tries to throw her off. So he puts the box that holds the engagement ring in a bigger box, and then he puts that box in a bigger box, and then he wraps that box and gives it to her and she suspects a scarf! And then it turns out to be a million-caret ring and she's so happy and-'

_'Where the hell did that imagery come from?' _

'Lifetime movie.'

"I've got Preparation H. I don't know how good it is; it's never been opened. Joey hasn't had some sort of accident in a while, has he?" Monica said from the bathroom, tearing Chandler from his thoughts. "I've never tried this brand before but it's got petroleum, so…." Monica continued, walking into the living room with a small tube in he hand. She stopped abruptly when she saw Chandler standing by Rachel's door, staring blankly at Richard's present.

"Oh that-that's a gift…from Richard," Monica said lamely, circling around the couch and the tree to approach him. "Here, let's wash your hands before we put this on."

"I know," Chandler said stiffly, letting her lead him to the sink. "It's…very nicely wrapped."

'_In the future, just _don't try _to fill the silences.' _

To his surprise, Monica blushed, avoiding his gaze as she stuck his hands under the spray of warm water, squirting some liquid soap onto his palms. "Actually, I wrapped it. I wanted to see what it was, but then I- it looked so messy, unwrapped, when I knew I wasn't supposed to open it until Christmas, so I just…rewrapped it."

"…oh." Chandler said vaguely, hissing in pain as Monica wiped his hands dry with a towel, and at the same time trying to ignore the way his hands could perfectly enclose her smaller ones.

As she carefully applied the ointment, Chandler looked around, not sure what he was supposed to do; where he was supposed to look. It felt weird and awkward to look at the ceiling, but even more so to look down at his hands; at her hands gently caressing his…no! No! Not caressing! Smoothing on healing balm. It was all very clinical.

He tried looking down at her bowed head, but found it was impossible to do so without being fascinated by how every single hair on her head was a different, unique shade of brown. A prism of color, and up close, it looked more reddish than almost black.

Monica glanced up, and Chandler tried desperately not to think about the fact that she was the perfect height for just bending down a little bit and capturing her lips-

"There," Monica said breathlessly, before stepping quickly back and washing her hands. "You don't need bandages or anything; just try not to…touch anything for at least 10 minutes."

"Righto," Chandler said weakly.

_'Righto?' _

'Yes. Yes, I know. I'm an idiot.'

"You want something to eat?" Monica asked, staring almost desperatly at the refrigerator.

"I'm good."

There was a strained silence. Chandler exhaled heavily.

"So…what'd he get you?"

Monica blinked. "Wha-what?"

"C'mon, you have to give me credit for waiting this long to ask. What'd Richard give you? You _said_ you opened it."

"I did, didn't I," Monica said, almost to herself, before plunging ahead. "He got me a cookbook."

In a grand display of maturity, Chandler waited a whole half-hour, until he was back in the hall between Apartment 19 and 20, before executing his infamous "Chandler dance."

* * *

**AN: So many things took place in this episode. Chandler finally has a conversation with Monica, we find out what Richard got Monica (hope that makes up for you still not knowing what Chandler's getting her) and The Voice returns! Leave comments on any of the above things (and anything else) in a review. I especially want to know how you think I characterized Monica. Constructive criticism much appreciated on that front. **

**Oh, and if anyone missed _why_ Chandler is so relieved that Richard got her a cookbook, here's an excerpt from chapter one: **

"**Maybe he'd get her a cookbook; she'd like it, and it would just be _safer_.  
Except that she wouldn't like it. Her mother always gave her cookbooks, and so did the rest of her family (excepting Ross), so Monica had grown to see the recipe book as a sign that someone either didn't _know_ what to get her, or were giving her a subtle hint to improve on her cooking."**

**Please review! **


	5. Grocery Store Etiquette

**AN: Thank you for all the reviews, everyone! I feel so loved. **

**Disclaimer: I think you get it by now. None of it's mine. **

**I just have to clear up one thing. Several people seem to have the impression that Richard is Monica's boyfriend. THAT'S NOT TRUE! Yeah, sorry, that was just for the benefit of the people who only read author's notes if there's something in Caps-Lock. So, what I really meant to get across was that Richard ran into Monica somewhere (much like he did in TOW and Richard are Friends, but not with the same result!) and they had lunch (like in TO In Vegas). Since she wasn't with Chandler (I think the only reason he didn't try to get back together with Monica in TO In Vegas is because she told him she was with Chandler), Richard told Monica he still loved her, and that he did want to marry her. So, not technically proposing (like Ross said) with a ring and everything, but pretty much what he did in TOW The Proposal- just saying that he was ready to marry her and was willing to have kids, because he loved her. **

**Monica has not been in contact with Richard since she ran into him and he said this. She is still trying to decide what to do. Sorry I didn't make this clear earlier, but Chandler wouldn't have asked Monica for a blow-by-blow account of exactly what happened, and since I made the decision to have everything strictly in his POV…. **

**dawn1**: **Yes, I too want Chandler's job. It's the writers' fault, though- they always have him slacking off work on the show. I just followed their example. I was also wondering if the present thing was realistic (Monica opening it and then re-wrapping it) but I needed a way for Chandler to find out what Richard got her in that chapter, so….**

**Lupinsmoon12391: Not necessarily the only way (for Chandler to still have a chance with Monica) but a good way, I think. I almost left it out, but it was just too perfect….**

**DanielFactoid: Wow…long review is amazed Thank you! Like I've already said, I was worried about writing Chandler and Monica actually conversing, but I'm glad everyone seems happy with the result. Huh, I just realized…up until that part with them buying the Christmas tree, this could have been a Monica's Birthday fic. Oh, well. Richard's not actually Monica's boyfriend right now (you don't have to take my word for it: read above author's note for actual explanation…which is also my word), and I loved the episode where Chandler and Joey got everyone bad presents ("ribbed for your pleasure"…hilarious!) None of the Friends ever seem to work unless it's important to the plot of an episode, but especially Rachel (when she was a waitress) and Chandler (except he must have worked in the first season…he got promoted pretty quickly, didn't he?) The Voice isn't in this chapter that much, but I didn't leave it (him?) completely out. Yay! Do I get a broken stapler now? (I already have like 6...maybe I can start a collection.) If you read this whole reply, you can have my…broken handheld pencil sharpener. The power that is broken office supplies! **

**Kristy: Ah, yes. The thing about Richard is that, even if there's no denying he loves Monica, they have almost nothing in common, and I don't think he knows her well at all. I never thought he did; not even in Season 2 when I didn't hate him. And Chandler has a bonus- of course he knows Monica better; he's been best friends with her for 10 years. …I also would love to get a coat hanger from Chandler. Actually, I do need a coat hanger. I broke one of mine "fencing" with my friend. **

**Chan4Mon4EVA4EVA: Glad you like it! (Although, Richard's not actually her boyfriend. Read above Author's Note. He is a bastard, though)**

**MCEJBing: I just couldn't finish that fic without the Chandler Dance. Thanks for the great review! **

**mistymidnight: I think it proves mondler is the best couple, too. That's mostly why I wrote it. And as for your views on my Monica characterization, I agree. She's not entirely in character, but I don't know how or where exactly, so I can't fix it. Meh. **

**Wendelin The Weird: There's not much Monica and Chandler dialogue, but there will be in chapters after this one. Chandler's present is a little unconventional (as in not romantic) but it's something he knows Monica will love and that's what's important. You'll find out what it is in the next chapter. **

**ElSupremo: Yay, your review makes me feel special. I try to have as much Chandler/Joey and Chandler/Rachel and Chandler/Phoebe and Chandler/Ross friendshippy moments as I do Mondler romance moments (this chapter is Rachel/Chandler and Ross/Chandler friendship). **

**Writergal90: I too have a great weakness for The Voice (it's good for the soul!) but it's not good to rely on the voice too much for humor, so it's not in this chapter as much. **

**Julia: Chandler doing what he does best…his Chandler Dance. I miss him doing that in later seasons. "Great chapter as usual" is thrilled by sparkly compliment Thanks! **

**Also thanks to Jayne Leigh, LucyGoose, LilMondlerLuver, and fashion hottie. All your reviews make my day. Seriously.

* * *

**

"And so he got her a cookbook! 'Course, it could be an extremely rare, hand-bound cookbook filled with recipes for delicacies that are sure to taste exquisite and that will win over every one of those bastard waiters at _Alessandros_, but it is still a cookbook! Even a box of tic-tacs would look personal next to _that." _

"So you're getting her tic-tacs now?" Joey asked in confusion. "Dude…I don't think she'd like that very much."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "No, Joey….although, Chandler, you do know this has to involve _some_ thought, don't you?"

"I _know_…I'm not…I'm working on it," Chandler spluttered, scowling at a hole in the toe of his sock. "And, y'know, tic-tacs would actually make a good stocking stuffer. Mon goes through them insanely fast. I think it's a combination of her obsession over things being clean and the fact that she can on only eat them in even numbers. Same with popcorn. She saws it's because she has to have something on both side of her mouth…to keep things equal. I mean, what is _up-?_"

"Chandler, _focus!" _Phoebe told him impatiently, punctuating her statement by poking him in the ribs with the pencil she had previously been sucking on for inspiration.

"Says the woman who was so busy making up love sonnets about me and Monica that she missed three appointments at the massage clinic and almost got fired," Chandler snapped back, leaning back in his barcalounger. They were currently trying to figure out what would "cause Monica to see what a great guy Chandler is" (in the words of Rachel), and "get Monica into Chandler's pants" (in the words of Joey). Phoebe hadn't said anything, just nodded and smiled along with Rachel and glared at Joey in disgust. She had then taken out a pad of paper and a pencil for jotting down ideas, but in the past hour hadn't accomplished anything other than making a list (purely for Joey's benefit) of the different colors your aura could turn and what those colors meant.

(Apparently green was 'insecurity', not to be confused with 'jealousy', which was puce, and Chandler _always _had a faint mist of green that surrounded him.)

Despite everyone's "help", Chandler still hadn't come any closer to deciding what to get Monica. Well, maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit. Not only was Phoebe and Joey's interpretation of Ross' reaction when he found out that Chandler liked Monica very distracting (and distressing), but up until yesterday, he'd _thought _he'd known what to get Monica. A soft, cobalt blue scarf he'd seen her admiring last month. It was neither jewelry nor ridiculously expensive, two traits that would scream '_I love you!'_ Yet it wasn't something an aunt that she saw twice a year would buy her. It was expensive enough for Monica to sigh and claim that it was a "frivolous expenditure."

But now it seemed ridiculous and stupid. A good gift _before London_, but now? Definitely not. How much had she even _wanted_ it then? Would she even remember admiring it earlier? With Richard in the picture (bad gift or not) he had to do _something. _And if that something wasn't actually _telling_ her how he felt, it better be a damn good present.

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve," Phoebe continued, oblivious to Chandler's mutinous monologue, "and you still don't even have the faintest idea of what to get her."

"Well, it has to be personal," Rachel said slowly, frowning. "Maybe you can make something."

"That's a great idea!" Phoebe exclaimed, jumping up. "We could make something using decoupage, or…or…ooh! Paper mache! I love paper mache!"

"No," Chandler protested weakly, but Rachel overrode him.

"_And_ we can go through all her stuff and see if there are any hints to what she really wants. She usually circles things in catalogues and makes small lists on post-its. Of course, that's all mail-order stuff that you could never make. Not unless you, you know, opened your own sweatshop or something."

Chandler just shook his head at the uniquely Phoebe statement.

"Come _oonnnnn_, Chandler," Rachel whined. "Maybe that wasn't Richard's _only_ present! Maybe he got her an amazingly good one, not _just _the cookbook!"

Phoebe squinted at Chandler, shaking her head. "Green, green, green," she murmured under her breath. Chandler sighed resignedly.

"Okay, fine. Go get the catalogues. Just...no paper mache."

* * *

An hour later, Chandler, Rachel, and Phoebe were surrounded by an explosion of magazines, articles from Phoebe's craft box, a handful of Rachel's Harlequin romance books (Chandler desperately tried to ignore the fact that two of them were written by his mother) and feathers (the duck had gotten covered in glue and sequins and pitched a fit). Joey had given up an our ago on helping out- his excuse was that all the "girly stuff" was getting to him. Chandler considered himself immune for the most part to "girly stuff" as a result of growing up with the Queen of Glam (and his mom).

Phoebe had also stopped helping, in favor of making a collage of "hunky underwear models".

Chandler heard steps by the door and the turn of the knob and blindly threw last month's edition of _Cosmo _over his shoulder. Ross entered and stared at them. "The girls have finally let you join in on the sleepovers?" he asked Chandler with a smirk.

"Ha ha," Chandler said miserably, glowering at his shoe, where one of the rejects from Phoebe's collage was stuck (apparently his abs weren't defined enough).

Ross rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. I'm gonna go take a shower, 'kay?"

"You don't need my _permission_, Ross," Chandler muttered, getting to his feet. "This is not working," he added to Rachel as the bathroom door closed behind Ross.

"Yeah, I know," she agreed immediately, much to his surprise. After a quick glance at Joey, who was currently constructing something that looked suspiciously like a fort out of some of Ross' boxes and one of the barcaloungers, she stood. "Let's go shopping!"

Chandler was in no position to argue.

* * *

"This place is stupid," Chandler grumbled, glancing warily around at the racks of clothes and shelves of overly-packaged products.

Rachel looked at him sharply. "You're just upset because there are no grocery carts around for you to throw yourself down aisles in."

"That's not true," Chandler protested, slipping effortlessly into Lecturer Mode. "You see, what you do is -instead of standing _in the cart _(that requires two people)- you stand _behind_ it, take a running start, and jump onto the _bar _that… that…oh, Joey would understand!"

Rachel smirked, popping her fingernail against his shoulder. "Well, Joey is an even worse shopper that _you are_, so he was conveniently not told about this outing."

"Hey, I resent that," Chandler muttered. "I get _you_ the perfect gift every year, don't I?"

"That's because I've learned from your mistakes and give you all a list of different stores I want gift cards to," Rachel sniffed, fingering a pleated skirt on the clearance rack with an air of distaste.

"Yea, well…if this is such a great store, _why wasn't it on your list_?" Chandler said, voice rising in triumph as he pointed dramatically at her. Several shoppers glanced at him sideways, and he lowered his arm sheepishly, feeling his cheeks burn.

_'Nice. Get yourself thrown out. That'll help you on your search for a perfect gift for Monica. You know, if you had more time, you could turn this into a reality tv show.'_

"I just discovered it last week," Rachel answered smoothly. "Doesn't it have a great name, though- _Strawberry's_!"

"It sounds like a produce depot."

"Well, it's _not_, so just…get your grocery cart race fantasies out of your head."

"It's not a fantasy! I've actually done it before!"

"Oh, bravo!" Rachel exclaimed sarcastically. "You really don't know much about grocery store etiquette, do you? I mean, you wheel around on grocery carts, you throw bags of grain at your girlfriends…."

"Okay, that was _one time!_ And it was barley!"

Rachel rolled her eyes, pausing to eye a pair of earrings on display. Chandler frowned at her (they were on a schedule here!) but then paused as he caught sight of a necklace lying next to them.

"You think Phoebe would like that?" he asked her.

"Oh, don't get distracted. You can't afford to- wait a minute. _You didn't get anything for Phoebe yet_? Chandler!"

Chandler avoided her eyes. Truthfully, he hadn't gotten anyone anything (except a PBS Documentary on erosion and a romance novel for Ross- the latter a gag gift, the former, sadly, not- and a Bloomingdale's gift card for Rachel). "Well, I _sorta know _what to get her. 'Cause there's a _Wic n' Sticks _right by my office, and I was thinking I could stop by tomorrow after work for some of those aromatherapy candles she likes. But it just doesn't seem like enough."

"You have work tomorrow? On Christmas Eve?"

"It's only a half day," Chandler said defensively, for some reason finding a sudden loyalty towards his company. After all, he was supposed to be at work right this minute. "And we can dress casually."

"So what does that mean?" Rachel snorted. "You don't have to wear the suit _jacket?_"

"Actually…it means we don't have to wear a tie," Chandler mumbled. Rachel stared at him with what looked horribly like pity. "Yeah, well, we _never_ have to wear the suit jackets, so ha! I mean, _technically_, we have to, but no one really notices if we take off the jacket during the day. Especially during the summer, whe-when the air conditioning invariably breaks, and…_oh, shut up_! Your job sucked too, until like, two years ago."

Rachel's lip twitched as she tried to suppress a grin. "I didn't say anything."

Chandler exhaled heavily, wondering if he could manage to slip away from Rachel long enough to find gifts for his other 3 friends.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Ross and Chandler sat inside the fort Joey had made earlier. Chandler had been surprised to discover that Ross had joined Joey in "playing" house- pilgrim style, apparently, since Joey was wearing a cowboy hat, Ross an Indian headband and "war paint" (some of Rachel's lipstick). Chandler himself had been cohered into wearing a bonnet. After Joey had left for an audition, the game had quickly been dropped in favor of watching tv through a gap in the boxes.

The "war paint" Ross had applied to his face had faded and smudged considerably, and the headband has slipped sideways over his forehead. Neither of them were feeling productive enough to leave the fort for anything other than beer.

"Hey, doesn't that guy look a little like O'Brian?" Chandler asked presently, pointing to the tv screen, where a _Doritos _commercial currently presided.

"Who's O'Brian?"

"You know, fourth drummer in our band. Redhead, had a mullet, quit because I made fun of his mullet…"

"Oh, yeah! That was a great thing we had going there."

"Yeah." Chandler replied, taking a swig of beer. "So, whatcha wanna do today?" he asked after a short pause.

"I was thinking the same thing we did yesterday. That was pretty fun, right?"

"Ross, we are _not _going to watch _Miss Marple _again!"

"Oh, come on! I want to see who murdered Colonel Wellington!" Ross whined, stepping out of the fort and collapsing in Joey's barcalounger. Chandler crossed to his own barcalounger, swinging it around to face Ross.

"Geez, man! It's obviously the girl with all those cigars. The murderer is always the person with the strange habit that sets them apart from all the other suspects. That unusual habit is, in fact, usually the clue that leads them to the murderer."

_'Yeah, you think it's the girl with the cigars because of that. Not because you have a certain biased attitude toward all cigar smokers, because of a certain cigar smoker that still might manage to win over Monica.'_

"But the last segment's on at nine!"

"Fine! Then what d'you want to do _until then? _It's barely two in the afternoon. What, are we supposed to just sit here for seven hours."

"Well, that's what we've been doing for the past three." Ross replied, absently shredding a bright red feather that had fallen off of his headband. Chandler scowled, glancing around the apartment for inspiration. His eyes fell on the duck, waddling innocently out of Joey's room.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, bouncing over to the duck and picking it up, ignoring the protests in the form of outrageous squawking and flapping of wings. Ross winced, leaning away from the bird. "Let's try to teach the duck to fetch the remote!"

Ross rolled his eyes. "Dude. Do you want it to be the _exact same _as yesterday?"

Chandler sighed, leaning back and letting his imagination spin out elaborate fantasies, in which Monica came in and tearfully declared her love for him, and Ross gave his blessings, a paternal smile on his face. He was just deciding on what dress she would be wearing when all this happened (he thought the deep blue one she'd worn to a benefit last week) when Ross said abruptly,

"That concert was pretty great." Chandler looked instinctively toward the tv, but _Full House _was on. Did Ross mean the band DJ had started in Season 3? "We had a _bitchen' _audience," Ross continued, and Chandler was struck with a horrible thought: was Ross still thinking about their college band- _Way, No Way? _It was Chandler's own fault for bringing up O'Brian; when Ross started to get nostalgic, he could go on about something for days. But if Ross _was_ taking about _Way, No Way_, his statement made no sense.

"Concerts? As in plural?" Chandler asked, just to clarify. Ross shrugged sheepishly.

"Yeah, okay, there was only the one, but you gotta admit, it _was_ a great audience."

"Ross, we performed at your own bachelor party because the stripper was late and people were about to leave."

_'The truth can hurt, but denial is a horrible thing.' _

"Well, maybe she was late because she didn't know which Pizza Hut to go to!" Ross exclaimed bitterly.

"Well, where was I supposed to throw it? In the dorm? That's what you get for marrying when your still in college- that and the bride-to-be never had a chance to experiment, so she never realized she was a lesbian until it was too late," Chandler added, smirking. Ross glowered at him.

"Say whatever you want, but that concert _was_ good; we got some encore requests. And we _would've_ had more concerts if Gandalf hadn't quit."

"In his defense, it's hard to be in a college band when you've dropped out of college."

There was anther long pause, and Chandler wasn't fooled waited warily for more anecdotes from Ross. He might even demand that they sing '_Emotional Knapsack' _for old times' sake.

Sure enough: "You know what I just realized? You only ever wrote one song: 'Shoebox of Lies'."

"That's not true!" Chandler exclaimed, unable to stop himself ('_Oh no!' _The Voice exclaimed. _'You can't be getting sucked into this…Time Warp, too! Not when you still haven't gotten a gift for Monica!_') "I wrote both '_Betrayal in the Common Room' _and_ 'Candy Corn Soul: A Halloween Tale of Woe_', _and_ I co-wrote 'Drunk Toga Man Crashed at My Dorm Last Night' with Gandalf, _plus _I revised '_She Feels Weird Since I've Been Gone_' for you after Rachel proved it invalid Thanksgiving '87."

"Writing "_This lovesick fool could not be more wrong, The only way Rachel Green feels weird is from wearing a too-tight thong_" at the end of the song is _not_ an acceptable revision, Chandler!"

'_Okay, apparently still a sore spot. Quick, smooth it over! Sly like fox; appeasing like…fluffy bunny rabbit?…no, that's "cute". Badger?' _

"I'm not used to writing in rhyme," Chandler tried soothingly. When Ross glared at him, he tried pity. "Okay, I wrote that when I was on painkillers for my _missing appendage_!"

Ross didn't seem very appeased ('_Maybe you were working with the wrong hot animal,' _The Voice suggested. _'Badger seems more like "humble", not "appeasing."') _so Chandler was relieved when Monica chose that moment to walk in.

"Hey, Chandler?" she called, and Chandler swung around to face her, pasting what was hopefully a 'casually inquiring' look on his face. Monica stared at him in shock for a moment, before grinning widely. "How's the prairie, Laura Ingles?"

Chandler stared at her blankly for a moment, before realizing that he was still wearing the bonnet. He quickly pulled it off, feeling his cheeks burn a dull red.

_'Quick, go with it, go with it! You're Joke Guy; you can pull it off.' _

"Don't you think it's dashing?" he asked in a fake, deep voice. "It's an alternative for the top hat that I am personally rather fond of; I think the pink bow and wide brim add an air of mystique."

To his relief, Monica giggled, stepping carefully over some of Ross' boxes to approach them. She glanced at Ross, sprawled across Joey's barcalounger, then squeezed in next to Chandler, who stiffened in surprise.

To cover his suspicious reaction, he whispered in her ear, "Well, now you're just throwing off the whole ensemble. You're blocking the light from picking up my highlights."

_'There's such a thing as taking humor too far,' _The Voice informed him blandly. _'Now she _really is _going to think you're gay.' _

"Can you put _Behind the Music _on? They're showing Foo Fighters."

"You know, I could've been a member off the Foo Fighters," Ross said smugly. Monica rolled her eyes, and said, with the air of someone who has repeated herself many times,

"Ross, the only way you could have been a member of the Foo Fighters is if you named your college band 'Foo Fighters' in which case you would have sullied their good name. No offense," she added to Chandler.

"None taken," he said affably. "We were losers back then."

And then, what Chandler would describe later to Rachel and Phoebe as a spark of genius hit. It was so simple yet so close to perfect (considering who it was that had thought it up) that he had to suppress one of Phoebe's Plan Laugh's™.

"Well, I'm going to go practice some foosball," he said with attempted casualness (which was hard to do when he had to yell to be heard- Monica and Ross were vying loudly for the remote. During the fight, Monica had for some reason moved _onto_ Chandler's lap…not that he had noticed or anything). She looked up at him, and for a moment he could imagine she was disappointed, but then she just scooted over, allowing him to get up.

"You do need the practice," she muttered, settling happily on the barcalounger once he'd gotten up.

'Your secret crush can replace you with an inanimate object with no trouble at all. Ah, such love is only found in romance novels,' Chandler thought sarcastically as he moved toward Joey's bedroom.

That _was _where the foosball table was located, after all, although he had no intention of playing foosball. More importantly, his laptop was in there (Joey had borrowed it the other day, most likely to look at porn) and so, if need be, was another phone. (Joey was under the impression that if you had a phone in every room, you were living large. Chandler had thankfully managed to keep him from putting one in the bathroom.)

* * *

**AN: Sorry there wasn't much going on in this chapter…the next chapter was almost part of this one, but it would be long and I don't have the patience for it…so the next chapter will probably be kind of short, but more will be happening. **

**If the Ross/Chandler interaction seemed awkward, it's because I wrote it in script-form at first and it was almost a ONE-SHOT but then…it wasn't, obviously. **

**Please review! Pretty please? **


	6. Oswald and Claire

**AN: Wow. It's been a looooongg time since I've updated. And, in my humble opinion, this chapter is absolute crap. Well, maybe I'm being a bit harsh- it's my least favorite chapter, anyway. But I have excuses (for both the lateness and badness of this chapter): **

**1) Camp. Two weeks. No time for writing. **

**2) Computer. Meltdown. Had to get new one (we're all very lucky I was going to get a new one soon anyway, or else this chapter probably wouldn't be up until the end of September). **

**3) Writers block. 'Nuff said. Plus, I can't work very well on paper, which I had to do because of said computer meltdown. **

**4) Sleep deprivation (this being a reason for badness, not lateness of chapter). Self explanatory. Also explains the lack of full sentences in this AN. **

**Right. Thank you everybody for all the reviews; I'm much too tired now to thank all of you individually like I usually do, so that'll be in the next chapter (which, I promise will be much better than this one). **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I know how shocked all of you must be to hear this, but it's true. :-)**

**Dedication: To Matthew Perry's middle name, Langford, simply for being there. Seriously: does it not rock? (Also, a late shout-out to his 36th birthday- August 19!) **

**Oh, and I'm probably not going to update All the Angst until I've finished this.

* * *

**

Out in the living room, Joey's new "crazy chicken" clock clucked four times. Four am. It was four am and Chandler hadn't gotten more than fifteen minutes of sleep, instead wincing through 33 clucks altogether since climbing into bed.

Coming to terms with the fact that his own particular branch of headache relief (sticking his head under his pillow) wasn't working, Chandler rolled over to stare at a crack in the wall by his nightstand. It looked a bit like Lincoln, top hat and all, and had helped him with his insomnia in the past. But now, the crack just looked like a memoir from the Hammer Dart playoffs of 1997- which was what it was, of course. Chandler smiled in remembrance- the playoffs had been held in his room because of the lectures Monica kept giving him and Joey about the amount of wall by the front door that was now spackle.

And that brought him back to Monica.

'_All roads lead to Monica_,' The Voice chimed in.

And that was exactly the problem. The more tired Chandler actually grew, the more thoughts whizzed at break-neck speed through him head, none of them sleep-inducing, and all of them somehow Monica-related.

For example, most of them had him confessing his love for her in a horribly public scene, and Monica rejecting him in varying degrees of evilness. (Most of them also somehow involved Richard and Monica's wedding.) Some just had Ross strangling him when he found out what was going on.

After a last fruitless attempt at counting sheep, Chandler got up, throwing his pillow to the ground for good measure. He turned off both his alarm clocks (he generally needed at least two to get up in the morning) and shuffled out into the living room, carefully tiptoeing around the boxes (were they breeding? Because he wasn't joking about their seeming multiplication.) so as not to wake Ross, who was snoring on the hide-a-bed.

* * *

There was nothing in the refrigerator.

Well, that wasn't true; Ross had kept himself busy by organizing all of the contents into sections: fruits, vegetables, and expired goods. So his choices for a late night snack were: a lemon, some carrot sticks, and a whole truckload of crap that Chandler could smell from his bedroom.

He sighed again, glanced at his watch, and set over to Monica's. Chandler slipped (somewhat) noiselessly through her front door, turned to carefully close it, and let out a strangled scream when he turned back around. Monica was standing in the doorway to her lit bedroom, regarding him with raised eyebrows.

"Chandler, _what _are you doing?"

"I was hungry," Chandler said with dignity, which was hard since he was wearing cowboy pajamas.

'_Hey,_' The voice pointed out, always eager to make things worse, _'Those were the pajamas you were wearing that night in London!' _

He looked sidelong at Monica, trying to gauge whether or not she had noticed this, and felt his mouth drop partway open. Something he _somehow _hadn't taken in at first glance: She was wearing nothing but an over-sized T-shirt and cotton shorts with a Tweety Bird print. Needless to say, it showed off her long legs _very _well, and her hair was mussed from sleep (which naturally reminded him of other ways it could get in that state). Also…her mouth was moving. Which meant she was probably taking to him. Chandler tuned her back in with an effort.

"…don't feel like cooking anything. So just go…rummage around in the fridge."

"That's what I was planning on," Chandler said obviously (or did Monica honestly think he would go wake her up in the middle of the night and demand she fix him something to eat?) and proceeded to do so. One bad thing about Monica's excellent cooking skills was that there was never any leftover takeout around. He eventually pulled out a container of lasagna, and dug around in the cutlery drawer for a fork. He turned around, fork in hand, and jumped backwards, whacking his tailbone on the edge of the counter. Monica was standing _way _too close for comfort.

"He-hey! So what are you doing up…right at this late hour?" he said loudly, over- compensating wildly for his strange reaction. Monica stared at him, and Chandler suddenly wished he hadn't asked. Visions of Richard appearing from the bedroom to wrap his arms protectively around Monica danced in his head like sugar plums (he'd always hated those) and Chandler couldn't prevent himself from leaning part-way around Monica to check that the bedroom was empty.

"Um, I couldn't sleep?" Monica phrased it as a question, obviously thrown off by his odd behavior, then turned partway to see why he was now staring so intently at her (indeed empty) bedroom. Unfortunately, in doing so, her face came very close to Chandler's.

**Time stopped.**

Finding that he couldn't pull away, Chandler waited for her to do so. She didn't. Trying to unfocus his eyes didn't help suppress the urge to kiss Monica _at all_. Why the hell wasn't she pulling away?

Settling himself in for the long haul, he managed to keep himself from leaning in to kiss her by concentrating on dissecting _exactly_ how far apart from each other their faces were. One inch? Two? One and a half, he decided.

She still hadn't pulled away.

How much was that in centimeters? The metric system, not surprisingly, had flown out of his head, seemingly replaced by a whole batch of horribly haiku's about the exact shade of Monica's eyes. What was the formula again? 5 syllables, 7, syllables, 5 syllables?

Monica took a shaky step backward.

"Um…you left your bedroom light on," Chandler said weakly. He would have liked to gesture for effect, but his limbs seemed to be frozen in place. In fact, he was still in that odd, leaning position he'd been in when they'd almost kissed.

…at least, _he'd _interpreted it as an almost kiss. She probably hadn't moved for so long for a more _mundane_ reason. Like falling into a short coma as a result of his morning breath.

"Right," Monica said, voice loud and sharp and sudden in the broken peace. "I was just reading in there when you came in and then you came in and I thought you might be a burglar or something so I went to see without turning the light off in there and then I saw it was you and thenIforgotitwasonsothat'swhyit'sstillon."

She turned abruptly and marched back into her bedroom, while Chandler marveled over how she could babble out such a run-on sentence without pausing once for breath.

"Okay," he called after her retreating back. "So I'll just eat this in my own apartment?"

"Sure," she responded without turning around. "I'm going to try and get some more sleep."

* * *

Chandler squinted, bleary-eyed, at his cereal, the snap, krackle, and pops that issued forth suddenly very grating. The combination of lack of sleep, worrying about the encounter, and Phoebe and Joey's knowing smirks (he wasn't sure he wanted to know what _that _was all about) had caused his headache to escalate into a full-out migraine.

"So I went to my psychic yesterday," Phoebe chirped, "And she started talking about my past lives." Joey and Phoebe exchanged looks of suppressed glee. Oh God. That was their "Plan Look." Soon they would start using walkie-talkies and wearing camouflage helmets with plastic leaves pasted to them. (Chandler wasn't sure how that would help, but camouflage helmets was Joey's solution to anything that required discretion.) "But I had _already heard _about my days as a nurse in the French Revolution, so I asked to hear about all of _my friends' _past lives."

"Really, Pheebs? What did she have to say to that?" Joey boomed in a loud, fake voice that Chandler recognized from Joey's short-lived career on _Days of Our Lives. _He was beginning to desperately wish Ross was here, to clear his throat impatiently and proclaim that he didn't believe in past lives.

The feeling intensified as Phoebe dove into a long-winded anecdote in which one of Chandler's past selves (named Oswald, simply to keep up the tradition of names that, according to spell check, were spelled wrong in _every one _of Chandler's lives, even the ones before computers were invented) courted a young milkmaid named Claire. "Claire" was obsessed with cleaning, and loved to work at the bakery, even if it was just to sweep up, because cooking was her greatest passion. Chandler wasn't surprised when Phoebe revealed Claire to be Monica in a past life. Joey gasped in obviously put upon surprise, but Monica nearly swallowed her spoon (had she _really_ not seen it coming?).

"What about Chandler's other past lives?" Joey asked in that same faux voice. "Any of _them_ also entwined with Monica's?"

Okay, now Chandler _knew _they had to be following some sort of script. When Joey used words like entwined…it must have been a written script, though, with no rehearsals, because Joey pronounced it with a long e- "entweened." Either way, the urge to hit Joey was great, and Monica looked as though she shared his sentiments. Chandler wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or hurt by that.

Phoebe, however, didn't seem to be following the script, instead choosing to regale them with her own version of Chandler's various past lives. At least, that was how Chandler interpreted the at once confused and horror-stricken look on Joey's face.

"Well," she started thoughtfully. "Chandler's usually gay in his past lives- that, I think, explains the gay quality he has in this one…."

Chandler looked discreetly around for someone to rescue him (Rachel was preferable, Ross would do in a pinch- and this _was _a pinch- even _Gunther_ was better than nothing, although Chandler had no idea why he would come into Monica and Rachel's apartment) but no one seemed forthcoming.

Why _wasn't _Rachel here, though? Ross often slept late now that he was on sabbatical, but there was no reason for Rachel not to come to breakfast. Or had _she_ been in on it?

_'Most likely,' _The Voice said, sounding grim. '_Think about it: The only reason Rachel is absent is that, although Phoebe and Joey can get away with talking about past lives seriously, Rachel participating in such a discussion would make Monica suspicious.' _

"And in a couple of _other past lives_," Phoebe continued blithely, "Chandler and _Rachel _got together. Or, I _should _say Granville and Jane, Julien and Laura, Owen and Kathleen, and Breton and Sarah." Phoebe stared at Phoebe in astonishment, and Chandler could see Joey pin-wheeling his arms frantically and mouthing 'Noooooo!' at her from behind Monica's back.

'_Okay, so I'll admit this would be extremely amusing if I didn't have to listen to your thoughts about this for the next millennium, but as it is…enough it enough.' _

'You're me!' Chandler thought the customary tag-line (he couldn't break tradition for such a silly thing like mortal embarrassment at the hands of your two ex- best friends) before clapping his hands together loudly to get the attention of all the room's occupants. It had the desired effect of everyone falling abruptly silent and turning to stare at him. Joey paused mid-pinwheel.

"Our past selves are very different from who we are now, right?" he asked, enunciating carefully. "So none of this _really matters_."

'I am giving you a way out,' he added furiously for the benefit of anyone that might be listening to his thoughts other than The Voice (with Phoebe, it was a toss-up). 'Please take it.'

Joey, unwilling to give up without a fight, chose instead to slowly lower his arms, smile faintly, and plow ahead in pure train wreck fashion. "From what Phoebe said, Oswald and Claire sound exactly like Chandler and Monica. That just goes to show you…." He trailed off, unsure of how to finish his sentence, but confident that he had made his point. He had.

"It's like Sunny and Cher!" Phoebe added brightly. "Sunny and Cher, Oswald and Claire…"

"Sunny and Cher broke up," Chandler said, burying his head in his hands. He didn't dare to look over at Monica. Thinking of which….

"I'd better get to work," she mumbled, getting quickly to her feet. As she reached for her purse, Chandler noticed that her hands were trembling. He waited an appropriate amount of time after the door had closed behind her (20 Mississippi's) before exploding.

"What the _hell _were you two doing?"

"Trying to make Monica see what a good guy you are," Joey replied, unconcerned.

"By telling her that I was _gay _in many of my past lives?" Chandler shouted, shoving his chair back and standing abruptly. Joey shrunk away from him, protesting weakly around the whole English muffin he'd just shoved in his mouth.

"Iffn wager Pheeehfs guagh," he blustered unintelligibly, pointing at Phoebe. Once he's swallowed, he tried again. "Don't yell at me! Pheebs is the one that didn't follow the plan!" He rounded on her. "What was that whole Chandler-Rachel thing, anyway?"

"Well, it's true!" Phoebe said defensively. "And I thought it might make Monica jealous, because Chandler and Rachel are also good friends."

"Bu-but it's ridiculous!" Chandler spluttered, beginning to pace around the room. _This _was why he hadn't wanted to tell them in the first place. Their pure lack of subtlety would cause Monica to figure out everything, assume that he had _recruited _them to try and make him look good, and never speak to him again.

…it was possible.

"Oh, no it's not ridiculous!" Phoebe said earnestly. "You and Rachel really did get together in a few past lives- more than just the ones I mentioned. And you almost got together a few times in this one as well."

"What?" Joey and Chandler yelled at the same time.

"Oh come on! Chandler gets all the hot girls!" Joey shrieked. "First Monica, and now Rachel?"

"And what about me, Joseph Tribbiani?" Phoebe asked sharply. Joey retreated immediately.

"Well, you _are _the hottest. It's just…_two out of three of my best friends_!" he whined.

"Well, I haven't got Ross, either," Chandler said to lighten the mood. He was ignored.

"He didn't _actually _get Rachel. And he hasn't got Monica _yet._ Remember, that's why we _developed the plan_-"

"But at least he's got a London! I haven't got a London with any one of you!"

"What do you mean 'he's got a London?'" Phoebe asked dangerously.

Chandler froze. Only Joey (and Monica) knew about their one-night stand the night after Ross' rehearsal dinner, and he'd personally like to keep it that way, at least until things got a little less insane.

"That's Joey's new nickname for crush, because I first started to have a crush on Monica while we were in London," he covered quickly, not realizing until after the words had left his mouth that the explanation didn't make sense.

Luckily, Phoebe didn't seem pick up on it, saying only, "Oh, _please! _You had a crush on her long before that!"

Chandler was too tired to argue with her about something everyone present knew she was right about. He knew how to pick his battles.

"When did Rachel and Chandler almost get together in this life?"

Joey apparently didn't.

"Well…first, they kissed at his and Ross' college party," Phoebe began, slowly warming to the subject. Chandler absently pounded Joey on the back when he began to choke.

"_You_ kissed Rachel Green?" he gasped when his air passage was no longer blocked. Phoebe overrode him.

"And then you two could have gotten together that night right before Joey moved in, at the coffeehouse when it was a bar…."

Joey interrupted her again. "Whoa, man!" he hissed to Chandler. "Wouldn't it be weird if you and Rachel had gotten together before I got to know either one of you?" He shook his head, grinning. "It would _totally _change my perception of you as someone who could never get any girls."

Chandler scowled. It wasn't as though _Joey _had gotten together with Rachel or Monica in _any _of his past lives. Right?

When he thought to ask Phoebe, she just giggled. "Oh, this is Joey's first life as an _animate _object."

'_Well, that certainly explains a lot_,' The Voice sniggered.

Chandler moved toward the door, only half-listening to Phoebe's description of Ross and Rachel getting together in a past life ("Now that's more like it!" Joey exclaimed). Apparently Ross was Dilbert, and Rachel was Gretchen.

Suddenly, a new thought occurred to him. How could Phoebe have known about either of his encounters with Rachel? _Maybe_ Rachel told Phoebe about their kiss at the party, but Chandler had _thought_ she'd be too drunk to remember. And that time at the bar- Rachel had completely ignored his pathetic attempts at flirting. He'd thought she hadn't even known that's what he was doing. Was Phoebe really psychic, after all?

* * *

"Bing!" a familiar voice exclaimed directly in his ear, and Chandler jerked awake, nearly falling off of his swivel chair as he bounced automatically to a sitting position. He had fallen asleep at his desk, on his keyboard, to be exact, causing rows of gibberish to appear on the screen. **Fju(Y6g7tfhyg 6bu o9t6d598c9lkbnfk9-jspaIEopvrsawJ **filled his eyes.

"Bing, I'm disappointed in you," Doug growled in his ear (he could _hear him_, for God's sake; couldn't Doug straighten up and talk like a normal person?). "Hell, I like you, and I don't expect you to be an office _drone. _But I do expect some work to be getting done, and you have reached your quota of sick days and vacation days (and well past!) and haven't even bothered to call in half the time! And now falling asleep at your job! I understand the holiday spirit is getting to you, but this is _just _disgraceful!"

Chandler felt a flush crawl up his neck; so they had been keeping track, after all.

"I'm sorry, sir," he muttered, feeling more and more like an office drone by the moment. "It's just- I didn't get much sleep last night and-"

Doug cut him off. "You're a good asset to this company, Bing. That is, when you're present. And conscious," he added with a chuckle. Chandler scowled. And though Doug didn't come to work hung-over half the time, and he knew for a _fact_ that he spent the majority of the day snoring under his desk (Doug's personal secretary bummed cigarettes off of him in exchange for dirt). "And we've been pretty lax here," he continued, oblivious to Chandler's mutinous inner monologue. "So I'm not going to fire you. I _am _going to have to ask you to work overtime. The 25th through the 29th, to _begin_ to make up for the days you've missed. You begin tomorrow," he finished, as though Chandler was incapable of matching dates to days of the week.

"But tomorrow's Christmas," Chandler pointed out (maybe he could match dates to _days of the week, _but he hadn't promised anything about national holidays). He felt like Bob Craven in _The Christmas Carol._ Doug laid what he probably fancied was a supporting hand on his shoulder.

"Buck up, you've still got the 30th, New Year's off."

_'Oh, goody.' _Chandler clenched his jaw to keep himself from uttering a sarcastic comment out loud and set about deleting the numbers he had "typed" in his sleep: **JwasrvpoEIapsj-9kfnbkl9c895d6t9o ub6 gyhft7g6Y)ujF.

* * *

**

Chandler rolled his shoulders and moved his head around, trying to loosen the crick in his neck. It was after seven o' clock, and he's just gotten home. Even though it was a half day. Doug hadn't said anything about overtime including today, but Chandler had been too scared that he'd lose his job to go home until Doug did, at 4:30. It wasn't until he was in the process of sliding his MetroCard through the turnstile that he remembered _Wic n' Sticks_. And after he'd bought the candles for Phoebe, he'd realized that he didn't really have anything good for anybody (_including _Monica, but he'd mope over that later). And now, even though he wanted to do nothing more than order a pizza and watch cartoons, he had to wrap the gifts.

After a half-hour delay spent on a scavenger hunt for wrapping paper, scissors, tape, and ribbon (after the display at breakfast, Chandler _really_ didn't feel like asking for Monica for wrapping materials) he assembled the gifts in little piles for each person. He would have liked to wrap each gift differently in accord with who the gift was for (without dwelling on how Monica-esque he was behaving, thank you very much) but the only wrapping paper he was able to find had orange and purple cartoonish dinosaurs on it. (There had been some debate between The Voice and Chandler over who it belonged to; as the Voice said, Ross was the Dino Freak, but the cartoons suggested it was probably Joey's; Ross freaked over the improbability factor in _The Flinstones_.)

And then the Scotch tape ran out when he was halfway through wrapping Joey's gift (a signed Patrick Ewing basketball). Chandler stopped and stared at the only remaining gift left to wrap- Monica's. He'd gotten her two tickets to the next _Foo Fighters_ concert (they were going on tour in January), but that hadn't been The Plan. Not the whole plan, anyway. That plan involved those two tickets, and then Chandler would give Monica the _second part _of her present- some sort of jewelry piece that he could have engraved. Inscribed on it would be a poem- or a phrase- just a few words that would tell her he cared, and exactly how much.

But he'd chickened out. So, although Monica loved the _Foo Fighters_ and she'd be thrilled with the tickets, there'd be no unknown second part. So she'd be listening to _Hey, Johnny Park,_ an enchanted look on his face, and he'd be kicking himself for being such a coward. Besides, she'd probably want to take Richard, anyway. And she should, he supposed. But if they named _Everlong_ as "their song" he was going to…well, do what he'd been doing for the past seven months, really: nothing.

And it wasn't as if he hadn't _tried _to write something to have inscribed. But telling someone that you loved them was hard enough; pinning the words down; solidifying them in a way that could never be taken back was downright terrifying. And everything he'd tried to write had been crap. All of his attempts lay at a crumpled heap at the bottom of the wastebasket.

Chandler picked up the remaining wrapping paper and chucked it in the general direction of said wastebasket ('_Joey's_ wrapping paper,' he added viciously to The Voice). It bounced harmlessly off of the rim and fell to the rug beside it.

* * *

**AN: Leave a review, please! Constructive criticism is everyone's friend! **


	7. Meet Chandler's New Girlfriend

**Disclaimer: Friends does not belong to me….I do own The Voice though. Sort of. **

**AN: This first scene takes place pretty much right where the last scene of chapter 6 left off. Maybe a time lapse of about an hour- nothing major. I'd like to make clear that I didn't _really _hate the last chapter: it was just my least favorite and I thought it should be much better after such a long gap of updating. I tend to be melodramatic :- ). And thanks for all the positive feedback! You guys rock! **

**And in case anyone was wondering about Chandler's gift for Joey, Patrick Ewing is a center for the New York Knicks. I chose him only because of that and because he was also playing for them in 1999, when this story was set. I know pretty much nothing about basketball. **

**Pray for everyone affected by Hurricane Katrina. **

**And I did have fun at camp (thanks to everyone who wished me good luck, etc.)**

**DanielFactoid: Er…wow! (Of course I read the whole review! Now I get your messed-up cd player!) I'm sorry about the parental block-y thing- I removed the f-word in case anyone else was having similar troubles. Although, I never would have guessed that you were 13! People are always surprised that I'm 16 by my writing, and from your writing I would have guessed you were at least my age, if not older. The Voice only had like 3 lines in chapter 6, but I love it to death anyway, and I'm glad you like it, too. The sugar plum reference…I don't know exactly what they are, but it's from a poem, _Twas the Night before Christmas_: "The children were nestled all snug in their bed, While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads," so that's why it was "visions of Richard… dancing in his head like sugarplums" . …yeah, just so you know it wasn't completely random. I love writing Joey and Phoebe- they're the best friendship couple (I only say that because I can't write Monica/Chandler friendship-just romance). I didn't even realize there was no Rachel in this chapter until I'd finished it! There was going to be a Rachel/Chandler friendship scene, but it got moved to the next chapter (I was having a lot of trouble with it). My new computer rocks, thanks for asking! Once my old one dies completely, you can have it (it's sort-of an office supply) if you leave more reviews like that! And I only know about Langford because I saw he was sometimes credited as Matthew L. Perry and I wanted to know what the L stood for. I obsess over little things often. I love that it's an unusual name, like Chandler. And the Foo Fighters rock! Well, I don't like all of their songs, but you've got to listen to _Everlong, _which reminds me of them a little bit. It was also played at the end of their wedding episode (you can barely recognize it, though, without the lyrics and played by a string quartet) so I thought it was appropriate. I chose the band because I like them, Courteney Cox Arquette loves them, and they were around in 1999, when this fic was set. Oh, and as you'll see in this chapter, it is Ross' wrapping paper. It does sound like it's probably Joey's, but I needed it to be Ross' for the plot. We can say he got it to wrap Ben's present or something. Now, did _you_ manage to read all of _this_? **

**Wendelin the Weird: Well, I can't tell you if you're right or not about Monica's feelings, but I did promise a healthy amount of Mondler in this chapter, which is what you're going to get. So you'll just have to see. They've talked about past lives before on the show, and I wanted Phoebe and Joey to attempt to play matchmaker, so that's how that scene was born. And about Chandler's second half of the present, again, you'll just have to see. **

**Dawn1: I can't take credit for the "expired stuff" idea. That was in the show- season 5. I just wanted a reason to get Chandler over to Monica's and threw that in. **

**Lupinsmoon12391: Yeah, you're right. I reread it and found that I couldn't really change anything extensively. So…yeah. Thanks for reviewing. :- )**

**Shanima: I am a Rachel/Chandler fan, although I love Mondler more, but that chapter wasn't a hint for future Rachel/Chandler romance in this fic :shudders:. It was just a small shout-out. Besides, all of the Rachel/Chandler things that Phoebe said (in their current lives) are true and taken from the show. The kiss at the college party was in TOW The Stripper Cries, and Chandler hit on Rachel in TOW The Flashback. **

**Chan4Mon4EVA4EVA: Thanks! The past lives thing was fun to write. And I'm glad you love Foo Fighters too, although I wouldn't have really cared if you hated them. It wasn't really a big thing; I just chose that band because they were around in the 90s and I know a lot of their songs. **

**LucyGoose: Aww, thanks! The haiku thing will be mentioned again in this chapter, except in a very different way. **

**Bowels: I know Chandler working is insane, but Chandler not working like on the show is unrealistic, and obstacles are always fun, so I killed two birds with one stone and had Doug make Chandler work overtime. **

**Also thanks to mondlerlove, LilMondlerLuver, Jayne Leigh, fashion hottie, writergal90, ElSupremo, and everyone who reviewed chapter 5.

* * *

**

The important thing to remember when talking to voices (or, as the case may be, a Voice) in your head is to never get carried away, and start to think of said Voice as an actual person. Chandler had already begun to think of The Voice as a short, slightly sadistic-looking man with weird eyebrows. To tell the truth, it looked a hell of a lot like Jack Black.

And now that the connection was made, any and all words uttered by The Voice sounded like Jack Black. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

So now Chandler was laying upside-down on the sofa in the living room, legs draped over the back and concentrating on trying to change The Voice's imagery and sound to that of Julie Andrews' performance in Mary Poppins (it was harder, and more entertaining, than it sounded). The mental image of Jack Black had just flickered to Julie Andrews' head on Black's miniaturized body (bobble-head like) when Ross wandered in, looking distracted.

"Hey, Chandler, have you seen my dinosaur wrapping paper?" he asked, glancing around as if it would appear out of thin air in a puff of smoke to the theme of 'I Dream of Jeannie.'

'_Ha! Told ya it was Ross' wall paper!_' The Voice snicker-snacked (sometimes you have to use vocabulary from a poem titled 'Jabberwocky' when describing The Voice. It's just one of those things.), immediately reverting back to Jack Black. Chandler hauled himself carefully into a sitting position.

"Yeah, it's in my room…on the floor, by the garbage can." He added the last part tentatively, unsure if Ross had any designated wrapping paper holding place, and if he would throw a fit just like he did when Chandler treated some other paper type thing with "flippancy and frivolity". Okay, so _maybe_ he'd tried to make a paper mache oven mitt and _accidentally_ used Ross' paper on 'Theory on Dinosaur Aerobics' (or something to that effect) in the paper mache. And so Ross' computer was being updated or repaired at some shop at that time, and Ross hadn't had time to wait for it to get back and print out another copy before it was due in.

…it was nothing to make a big fuss over.

"Chandler!" Ross roared (there was no other word for it; _roared_) from the bedroom a few seconds later. "Chandler! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

Chandler half sat up as Ross stormed back over to the couch, unsure of whether or not he should make a sarcastic comment or not. It was Ross' nature to overreact to things, so him yelling wasn't exactly a new development. But him using even the mildest curse was pretty odd, and The Voice (still Jack Black, if anyone was keeping score) was warning him not to make jokes.

"What the hell is what?" he settled on, but even as the words left his mouth, a sinking feeling told him he already knew. That and a bit of crumpled paper Ross was clutching so hard his knuckles were white.

"THIS!" Ross screeched, waving the paper in front of Chandler's face. "Let's read it shall we? Maybe it'll refresh your memory," he added in a tone of strained calm.

Ross straightened out the paper with a tight tug that nearly tore it in two in the process, and read the haiku in a voice riddled with scorn.

_"Mon, you're lovely_

_I love how high-pitched you get_

_when I sneak a taste._"

It could not possibly _get_ any worse. Not only was that one of the haikus that he'd written after starting a contest with himself (who could write the worst haiku ever), but the last line seemed full of double- meanings that he hadn't even noticed while writing. At the time, he'd just been unable to fit 'sneak a taste of your delicious cupcake batter' or something similar into 5 syllables.

Looking at Ross' bright red face, Chandler really wished he hadn't bothered to follow the classical format of the haiku. Or better yet, listen to Monica and take out the trash more often.

"No-now, Ross," he found himself stuttering, "You're jumping to conclusions, 'cause it's just a little jokey haiku, and I just wrote because there was a contest for worst haikus, like a haiku version of the Bulwer-Lytton worst sentence contest. Remember we went to the website the other day?"

'_No, that was Joey_,' The Voice (Still Jack Black) reminded him cheerfully.

"Chandler, I don't know what you're trying to do," Ross said in a voice shaking with rage, "But this is _my sister _you're writing sick poetry about, and you _can not _write stuff about my sister."

"_It's not sick_!" Chandler exclaimed, then remembered the misconception over the last line and decided to change tack. "And _who says _it's about your sister? I said '_Mon_', not '_Mon-ica'_. It could be short for-for Mon…aba."

"_Monaba?" _Ross repeated doubtfully.

"It's African," Chandler said stiffly, hoping vaguely that Ross wouldn't do something like go to or something.

"This haiku was addressed to _Monaba_," Ross clarified, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I didn't say that." Maybe there was a way he could pull through this. "First of all, it wasn't _addressed _to anyone, just _about_ someone named Mon. Second of all, it wasn't _necessarily_ someone named _Monaba_, just that it's a possibility and you shouldn't just _assume_ Mon is short for Monica. It could have been something completely different!" Although Chandler had started his speech calmly enough, by the end he was borderline hysterical. He could tell by the determined glower on Ross' face that he wasn't buying it.

"Really. Like what?"

"Like what? Like…like I could be doing a Jamaican thing: '_How's it going, mon_,'" Chandler demonstrated in his best Jamaican accent.

"You know what?" Ross said in disgust, "You could at least own up to it, instead of denying it badly. It's bad enough that you actually _like _my sister…."

It was around then that Chandler gave up on convincing Ross that it wasn't Monica that the haiku was about. It wasn't a conscious decision; it was just automatically made when he lost his temper.

"_It's bad enough that I like your sister_?" he repeated incredulously. "What d'you mean, it's '_bad enough_?'"

"You shouldn't like her!" Ross yelled back. "You're not supposed to like her, and other than Joey, you're the _last_ person I'd ever want her with!"

"And why is that, Ross?" Chandler asked quietly. This whole argument was so stupid; so childish; it was like a regression to being a freshman at NYU.

"You know your track record with women," Ross scoffed, not clueing in to the fact that Chandler was no longer angry or defensive. "Even if you found some way to get her to go out with you, you'd back out of being in a real relationship, and never call her because of your commitment issues."

"Of course I wouldn't call her," Chandler replied, unable to resist the opening Ross had provided. "She _lives_ right across the hall."

Ross didn't seem to have heard him. "I'm _not_ going to let you hurt her, just because you haven't had sex since Kathy!"

"I have _so_ had sex since Kathy!" Chandler exclaimed.

_'Okay, _so_ not the right thing to focus on, here,' _The Voice reminded him. (sounding like that girl from _Clueless_, strangely enough) _'And do you really want Ross to ask for details?' _

"I'm_ not _going to let you _use my sister, _Chandler!" Ross screeched.

Chandler, despite everything, couldn't help but roll his eyes. Ross had overreacted so much to a simple haiku that, if a stranger had overheard the conversation, he would have compared Chandler to Joey at his worst.

"I mean, _how_ could you do this to me?" Ross continued to rant. "We're supposed to be _best friends_- you two are supposed to best friends- and you betray both of us by lusting after her!"

"I am not _lusting _after her!" Chandler hissed lowly. They were, after all, in an apartment building, and Monica was _right across the hall. _

"Is this some sort of practical joke, then? Haha, Ross lost his job and is homeless, lets see if we can make his life worse!"

"You didn't lose your job; you're on sabbatical," Chandler reminded his friend gently, anger and sympathy fighting for dominance in his voice.

Ross stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. Seconds later, the door slammed behind him.

* * *

"You should have said Mona, or Monique, or Monita," Phoebe said, taking a careful sip of her hot coffee.

"Gee, thanks, Pheebs. That really helps me now," Chandler responded bitterly, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands.

"Oh, come on. It could have been worse," Rachel consoled him. "I mean, he could have…killed you, or told Mon."

Chandler sat up so fast that both Rachel and Joey started backwards, Rachel accidentally sloshing burning coffee over his hand.

"Oh my God, he's going to tell Monica!"

"He might not," Joey muttered, looking worried. Chandler was already in full panic-mode.

"Wh-where is Monica right now? Is she upstairs? Because Ross could be _over_ there, in her apartment, _right now _telling her! Did she have work today? Because if she did, and if she is at work, then th-there's a phone _there_. _At work_. In her kitchen. Ross is probably calling her up right-"

"Chandler, calm down!" Phoebe said impatiently, reaching around Rachel to swat him lightly on the forehead with her cinnamon stick. "It'll be okay, Ross will _not _tell Monica because-ooh! Monifa!"

Chandler stared at her. "_What_?"

"Monifa! It's my friend's name. You know," she added off Chandler's disbelieving looks, "the one with no hair?"

"I thought that was Bonnie," Rachel murmured, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice. Phoebe shook her head, either not catching or ignoring Rachel's tone.

"No, Bonnie shaves her _head. _Monifa doesn't believe in having hair _anywhere_ on your body."

"So she, like, shaves her eyebrows?" Joey asked. His confused expression prompted Rachel to snort into her coffee.

"Among other places," Phoebe murmured. Chandler and Joey exchanged grimaces.

* * *

Chandler tensed, poised uncertainly between apartments 19 and 20. He felt like a refugee; what if Ross was in his apartment? Or worse, in Mon's apartment, telling her that her friend "lusted after her"? And then Monica would storm out of her apartment, not quite believing Ross, to confront Chandler….

A combination of that mental image and Phoebe's impatient clearing of throat behind him finally prompted Chandler to propel himself forward towards his apartment, lingering in the doorway until Phoebe poked him in the small of the back. The living room, thankfully, was completely devoid of life, if you didn't count the bread growing mold in the breadbox.

"So, where do you think he is?" Phoebe asked in a near-whisper. Apparently, Chandler's paranoia was contagious. Chandler shrugged in an attempt to loosen the taunt muscles in his neck as much as a response to Phoebe's question.

"I don't know. But he came back here since I went down to the coffeehouse- his coat's gone, and he didn't grab it when he stormed out."

"I'm impressed. You know, we should fight crime together! There's a lot of robberies around the holidays!"

"Um…thanks- that's a real compliment coming from you, 99."

Phoebe giggled. "Okay. So should we search the apartment?"

"For what?"

"Well, Chandler, I don't know," Phoebe intoned sarcastically, before turning businesslike. "Ross might have booby trapped your room, for one thing. Use your head!"

"Booby-trap my room? God, Pheebs, Ross isn't in the military."

"You don't need chemical weapons to make a booby-trap. Haven't you ever seen _Home Alone_?"

"Well, Ross isn't seven, either," Chandler snapped, sinking down onto a stool and resting his forehead on the table.

"Oh, come on! Kevin McCallister was at least nine!"

"He was not!"

Yes, he was! And- this conversation has taken an interesting turn."

Phoebe rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fine, but if you walk into your room and a bucket of ice water upends over your head, don't come crying to me!"

"Duh-nuh, duh-nuh, duh-nuh-duh-nuh-duh-nuh-duh-nuh-duh-nuuuuuh, duh-nuh-duh-nuh, nuh,"she began to hum tunelessly after a couple minutes' of tense silence. Chandler, nerves already frayed, glowered at her.

"_Why are you humming_?"

"It's the _Pink Panther _theme!" she said defensively. "And I thought it went with the apprehensive mood, where Ross might come in any second. You know, Ross is the detective, and you're- or we're- the panther. Or is it the other way 'round? You know, I ever actually _saw_ the movie, but from the merchandise I gathered-"

"Pheebs, maybe the _Pink Panther _theme does fit the mood, but you were humming _The Odd Couple._"

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-"

The door banged open, and Chandler jumped up, taking refuge behind Phoebe as the image of Ross rushing wielding a crowbar flashed through his mind.

"There is nothing to eat over at Mon's!" Joey complained loudly, hopping on top of the counter (barely avoiding stepping on Chandler's hand) and poking through the kitchen cabinets. "She says she's saving most of the food to make Christmas dishes, and that it's my _own fault _for missing dinner! _I was at an audition_! And then you guys were in the coffeehouse, and… you were sitting by this really hot girl! What I want to know now is, whatever happened to all of the fun holiday stuff we _used _to do on Christmas Eve?"

"You mean watching Ugly Naked Guy decorate his tree?" Phoebe asked doubtfully.

"While drinking eggnog!" Joey added furiously, jumping off the counter. "Am I the only one who misses that? How come Monica doesn't make eggnog anymore?"

"Because everybody but you hates it," Chandler responded bluntly. "And anyway, she's already got a lot going on. She's making Christmas dinner for everybody, and her job's really demanding."

"Yeah, yeah, we get whose side you're on," Joey interrupted, removing the carrot sticks from the refrigerator with a grimace. "Are carrots supposed to be green?"

"Just move it to the 'expired' shelf- the garbage is full," Chandler suggested, tossing his friend a candy cane that one of his colleagues had been giving out at work.

* * *

"Chandler Bing," Chandler said distractedly into his work phone, concentration mainly on the columns of numbers on the screen in front of him.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Joey's voice blared, causing Chandler to almost drop the phone in surprise. "Why are you answering your work phone?"

"Because my secretary didn't come in today," Chandler stalled, flipping through the hard copy of his summation of the W.E.N.U.S.

"Well, maybe you should follow her good example! In case you haven't noticed, today's Christmas!" Joey spoke in a slow, slightly patronizing tone that, Chandler reflected ironically, he was usually on the receiving end of.

"Yeah, I know. I also told you Doug's making me work overtime."

"I- you said- I thought you meant yesterday! Today's not yesterday, Chandler, today's today."

Chandler raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Okay, calm down, Aristotle. It's not like I _want_ to be here."

Joey wouldn't be calmed. "You could have at least _told _us," he reproached Chandler sulkily. "Monica's made us _wait_ to eat breakfast until we found out where you were!"

"Really?" Chandler asked with a futile attempt to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

_'Oh, get a grip. She'd do that if _any one _of her friends were missing on Christmas day,' _The Voice growled.

"Yeah. You and Ross," Joey said, confirming The Voice's suspicions.

"Really? Ross isn't there?"

"Nope. Pheebs thought he might have killed you in your sleep and dumped you in the Thames."

"…the Thames is in England, Joe," Chandler muttered, deciding not to comment on the rest of the sentence.

"Right. Phoebe said that's why he wasn't back by breakfast. Because if it was the Hudson, he could just-"

"Yeah, I get it," Chandler interrupted quickly, before the unpleasant imagery Joey was putting in his head made it explode.

"So can you come home? I _really _want to eat!"

Chandler sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, man, I probably won't be out of here until after six. So that's another…geez, ten hours. Go and tell Monica I'm at work, and to start the festivities without me. Um…I guess you should probably wait for Ross to get beck, but that's your call."

After another three minutes of consoling Joey and persuading him to at least _try_ and get Monica to commence with the gift exchanging instead of waiting until after he got off from work, and two more of side-stepping Joey's questions about what Chandler had gotten him, Chandler was finally able to hang up the phone.

So he had conveniently "forgotten" to tell everybody that he had to go to work on Christmas Day, but it wasn't like it was even a big deal.

_'Right,' _The Voice drawled sarcastically. '_Because it's not like you went to any trouble to take a shower the night before so you didn't have to go risk waking up either one with the squeaky water pipes and go to bed at ten o' clock so you would be sure to wake up before your alarms and avoid Joey and Ross in the morning.' _

'Hey!' Chandler defended himself. 'I went to bed early to avoid "_The Wrath of Ross_." It wasn't just so I could get up early.'

'_Ooh, great defense_.'

It wasn't like any good could have come from telling his friends earlier. He would simply be bombarded with anything from pleas to blackmails in an attempt to try and get him to stay. And he couldn't lose his job; not now, at any rate, with Ross also home all day, and generally everything messed-up in his life. He couldn't afford unemployment, on top of anything else.

_'Yeah,_' The Voice conceded. _'Those lines are insane, and the people there are real assholes._'

* * *

Chandler had been unsure what to expect when he got home from work. Angry glowers from Ross and Joey were a certainty in his mind (for opposite reasons of course; Ross would probably be upset he'd come back at all), and although he couldn't quite predict others' reactions, he certainly wasn't expecting this.

"This" was a gigantic party held within the regions of his and Joey's apartment. It was barely recognizable as his apartment, in fact; gaudy Christmas decorations were everywhere, although many hung raggedly and one wild game of Horse was in the process of demolishing a colorful garland strung over Chandler's doorway. Christmas music was blaring from Joey's old boom box, to which he had hooked up huge speakers that Chandler recognized vaguely from Phoebe's apartment.

As if summoned by his thought of her, Phoebe herself appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a plastic cup of an indefinable liquid clutched in her grasp. "Hey, Chandler!" she screeched above a new-age version of '_Rocking Around the Christmas Tree_'. "Oh, Monica's gonna be _so_ upset she didn't get to see your 'reaction' to "her party". It was all _Joey's _idea of course; if she planned this it's be Coaster City, but she's the one who made it into a surprise for you, and because of that she thinks she's responsible for the whole party!"

"Geez, how'd you do this?" Chandler marveled, gazing around at the dancing throng that seeped into every corner of the apartment and trying to ignore the warm feeling that spread through his chest at the thought that at least part of this was Monica's idea. "It's _Christmas_; don't these people have _lives_?"

Phoebe giggled, shaking her head. "No! That's the best part! We called up everybody we knew that didn't have a family! I'm pretty sure we single-handedly wiped out all the bars! Also, we ordered a lot of pizza and Chinese food (a surprising amount of take-out places are open on Christmas) and just invited the delivery boys to join us. I was asking lonely-looking people on the streets if they wanted to come up, and they kept thinking I was a prostitute!" Phoebe burst into laughter, gripping Chandler's shoulder for support. "Man, I am so drunk!"

"Pheebs?" Chandler asked her, slightly worried. "Where are people we _know_?"

Phoebe glanced around. "Um…we invited everybody from _Central Perk _(and sure enough, Chandler could see Gunther bouncing around in the middle of the dance floor, being cheered on by several Mexicans Chandler was sure worked at the restaurant on the other block) "and the rest I don't know where the heck they are! Um…Joey went to a pick up a couple cases of beer, but he couldn't find anything open in a 5-block radius. He said he'd drive to Jersey if he had to. I think Monica and Rachel are over there." Phoebe pointed in the general direction of Joey's room. "I tried to send Ross over with them a couple minutes ago, but I don't think he made it. Just as well- the plan is completely useless with Monica there."

"Plan?" Chandler repeated faintly.

"Yeah. To get Ross and Rachel back together. Rachel's obviously still in love with him, and Ross is as jealous as a smurf."

"_What_?"

"You didn't _know_ that Rachel's still in love with Ross? God, where have you _been_? Oh, that's right, moping over Monica!"

"No, I meant the smurf…. never mind."

"And they obviously can't get it together themselves! But I'm beginning to wonder- do I have to do everything? I mean, I like to think of myself as the puppet master of the group, but come on, people, the puppet master gets tired!" Phoebe made an exaggeratedly exhausted face and held her hands out in front of her, moving them vaguely up and down.

"What _are_ you, a spastic Frankenstein?" Chandler asked, beginning to feel irritated. Ross could be in this apartment right now, telling Monica- _showing_ her the poem.

"No! I'm handling puppets! Because I'm a _puppet master_?" She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to "get it."

Chandler shook his head and shoved his way to Joey's room, closely followed by Phoebe.

After struggling manfully through the crowd, emerged (somehow with his limbs still intact) to come face-to-face with Ross. Well, really, face-to-back. Just as he'd escaped from the "dance floor", he'd tripped over the edge of the rug and accidentally rammed into someone who turned out to be Ross. Yay.

Ross turned to glare at him, and Chandler recognized dimly that Monica and Rachel were standing behind him, peering over Ross' shoulder concernedly. Chandler also recognized that Ross looked a great deal more angry than he should be.

'_Yes. Of course he shouldn't look this mad. You only slammed into someone who, as well as being a well-known over reactor, was already mad at you for falling in love with and writing arguably dirty poems for his little sister.' _

The Voice's rant was put to an end by Ross, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, bellowing "_You kissed Rachel_?"

"No!" Chandler shouted, before realizing that his answer wasn't quite true. "Well, yes, but it was _ages_ ago, and-"

Ross' fist swung towards Chandler's face, and he instinctively dove to the left, slamming his elbow against the wall in the process. Ross' pained screech as his fist hit the side table caused all the on-lookers (y_es, _apparently they had gathered _on-lookers!_) to flinch in sympathy and the TV remote laying on the table to crash to the ground and split cleanly in half. This time it was Joey's anguished scream that split the air in two. Someone turned off the music.

"Ross, you're going to pay for that!" Joey snarled, stepping over Chandler to point furiously at the broken remote.

"Joey, those cost like four bucks," Chandler muttered, getting to his feet and rubbing his elbow. The thing about Ross was, no matter what his current relationship with Rachel could be classified as (boyfriend/girlfriend, "just friends", or one-is-not-so-secretly-in-love-with-the-other,-who-up-until-recently-used-to-be-married), Rachel was always a sore spot; always someone he wanted to remain single. In fact, if Chandler wanted to get Ross the perfect Christmas present, he would have Rachel committed to a nunnery.

"_Did you really _kiss Rachel?" Monica said faintly.

"When did we _ever_ kiss?" Rachel asked, genuinely confused.

"Er…at the college party," Chandler mumbled, with the sinking feeling that he was over his head overwhelming him. He glanced around for help, but everyone's attention seemed to be focused on Joey and Ross- that is, except for Rachel and Monica. They were still staring at Chandler. Lucky him. "Back in college- when _I_ was in college," Chandler continued reluctantly. "I didn't _think_ you remembered- you were pretty drunk."

"You _drugged_ my-I mean, Rachel?" Ross shrieked incredulously, overhearing only the last part of Chandler's explanation.

"What were you about to call Rachel? Your what?" Phoebe asked sweetly. She caught Chandler's eye and made the "puppets on a string" hand motions again.

"I didn't drug anyone!" Chandler shouted back, ignoring Phoebe.

"_How am I gonna watch TV_?" Joey yelled, still lamenting over the broken remote. Someone turned the music back on, and the crowd dissipated.

"I think I remember that," Rachel said thoughtfully. "Monica was at the party too."

Monica shot Chandler a sharp look that he was too stressed to try to interpret.

"I didn't really mean anything," he sad for the benefit of…anyone in earshot, really. "I just kissed her to get back at Ross for breaking our pact…" he trailed off. There was no reason to remind anyone what nerds they had been in college. "Sorry," he added to Rachel.

"You saw that?" Ross shrieked.

"That's all right," Rachel responded easily. I only kissed you because you were in college and in a band."

"Hey!" Joey exclaimed. "You can turn _on _the tv by pressing one of the buttons _on _it!" (He had gone over to the set to grieve)

"_But I was in college and in a band_!" Ross belted out suddenly.

"What are you saying, Ross?" Rachel asked quietly. "Are you saying that you wanted me to kiss you?"

"NO! I'M SAYING YOU _DID_ KISS ME THAT NIGHT! Or I kissed you- _whatever_! You kissed me later that night and you can't kiss two guys in one night- _you just can't_!"

"Ross," Rachel said quietly. "I didn't kiss you that night. By now, I remember everything that happened _pretty clearly_, and I definitely didn't kiss you."

"Yes, you did," Ross said in a quieter voice than before (people had started to gather around again), but with just as much force. "I came into the dorm room, and you were asleep on my bed, and-"

"Actually," Chandler interrupted warily, not wanting to provoke another fit of anger, "She was asleep on _my _bed."

"Why was she asleep on _your_ bed?" Ross asked furiously.

"Because it was Chandler she was just making out with," Phoebe said with her usual bluntness. A vein in Ross' forehead started to throb (another thing he and Monica had in common).

"Bu-but," he spluttered. "I kissed her. She was on my bead and I went to kiss her forehead, but it was really dark and I kissed her on the lips instead-"

"Oh, God!" Monica said suddenly. Chandler whipped around to look at her, but she was staring at her drink with a strange, nauseated expression on her face. Had she had too much alcohol? Chandler gently took the plastic cup out of her hands.

"What's wrong?" Phoebe asked.

"Um, I wasn't feeling too good that night," Monica said carefully. "I'd had a little too much to drink. So I went to lay down on Ross' bed…."

"No, you didn't," Ross said, just as carefully. "Because Rachel was laying on my bed."

"Are you sure it was Rachel?" Monica snapped.

"Rachel was laying on my bed," Chandler reminded them.

"Oh my God!" Phoebe shrieked and started laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

Chandler glanced over at Rachel in an attempt to reassure himself that there was at least one sane person at this party, but she was glaring furiously at Ross.

"Ross, what the _hell _is wrong with you?" she asked him furiously. "You _just_ got divorced, we haven't been together for over a _year_, and now you think you have a _right_ to attack someone who kissed me _once_ over _ten years_ ago? _Someone that's supposed to be your best friend_?"

"Okay, just because I've known Chandler for longer _does not _mean he's my best friend."

Chandler raised his eyebrows and contemplated slipping back into the safe anonymity of the crowd. He was mercilessly saved from having to intervene somehow by Joey excitedly tugging his arm and pulling him away from the group.

"Dude," he hissed excitedly. "You so owe me for this one!"

"The party? You mean you didn't use my credit card to pay for the food this time?" Chandler asked hopefully.

Joey waved that small detail off impatiently. "Yeah, I did- that's not what I meant. Dude, I told Monica…" he paused for effect until Chandler poked him hard in the ribs: "OW! I told her that you were dating this really hot model."

Chandler stood frozen until a random party-goer crashed into him, sending him crashing sideways into the couch, and successfully knocking the wind out of him. Once he got his breath back, he counted silently to ten in his head and asked Joey calmly,

"Please tell me that dating is your new slang for cousin or acquaintance."

Joey beamed, apparently not catching on to the fact that Chandler could cheerfully kill him right at this moment. "Nope- I said you were dating this hot model named Chelsea Hoffman. Doesn't Chelsea Bing sound great? And then I thought, why would Chandler be dating a model if I wasn't, so I'm dating her twin, Charlotte."

"Charlotte," Chandler repeated faintly, gripping Monica's cup (he was still holding it) so hard that it caved inwards and scotch spilled all over his shirtsleeve.

"Yeah. And good news, man- Monica seemed really angry when I told her!"

"_How is that good_?" Chandler asked him, a little louder than was necessary ('_Little Drummer Boy' _was currently playing, although all the dancers seemed to be ignoring the mood of the song and continued to jump around wildly). Joey impatiently shushed him.

"Hey, calm down. I mean angry, like _jealous_. And she tried to cover for it, saying that she was just upset that you never told her you had a serious girlfriend (I told her you'd been going out for a month) but Joey can always tell." Joey smirked, tapping his temple with his left index finger. Chandler gaped at him, mouth partly open.

"But-you-you can't," he gasped, searching his mind for words that wouldn't possibly scar Joey for life. None came to mind.

A harassed-looking Rachel shoving impatiently past them snapped him out of his lower state of simmering anger, and he was able to dart after Rachel without screaming obscenities at Joey or simply sinking to the ground in despair.

Chandler finally caught up with her in the hallway, tugging on her arm to stop her from disappearing into her apartment. She whirled angrily around to face him, and Chandler was shocked to see that tears lined her eyes.

"Rach, what's wrong?" he asked, letting go of her arm to pat her shoulder awkwardly.

"Nothing, I'm fine," she said, the break in her voice betraying her words. "It's just…Ross is such an idiot."

"Yeah, I know," Chandler said soothingly, with the feeling that he was just making things worse. Rachel sniffed and leaned against the wall. Chandler decided this wasn't the best time to point out that she wasn't rearing waterproof mascara. "What happened?" he added finally, when she showed no signs of wanting to volunteer information.

She sniffed, wiping her eyes and grimacing when her fingers came away smeared with charcoal. "I know that he's mad at you," she started, and Chandler could already tell she was never going to get around to actually answering his question, "and I can even understand _why_, to some extent, but why does he have to act this way? Like he owns me, or-or like…like he still loves me."

"It's okay," Chandler muttered lamely, and hugged her tentatively. He'd never been very good at comforting, or even _being ar_ound crying women.

"I'm such a loser!" she said to his chest, voice slightly muffled. He began to rub her back, because it was what people tended to do in the chick flicks he was usually roped into seeing (how Joey and Ross managed to get out of going to, time after time, he'd never understand).

"Oh, you are not."

"I am!"

"Well, if you insist, then we can be losers together." Chandler felt her smile, than frown, into his shirt.

"What did _you _do to deserve that label?"

"Get a girlfriend, apparently," Chandler said bitterly. Rachel pulled back to stare at him, and Chandler was relieved to see that, not only had she stopped crying, but she didn't seem about to start up again.

"_What_?"

"Joey made one up for me to make Mon jealous. He said it worked, but I just think she's upset that I didn't tell her. Which really _isn't_ fair of her, because it's not like _sh_e told _me_ about Richard's proposal. Not when she told anyone else, at least. So it-"

Chandler's rant was cut short by the door opening and a handful of people spilling out, most of them leering at Rachel and Chandler, who realized that it looked as though they'd been doing more than just hugging. Once the group stumbled down the stairs, Rachel pulled away from him completely, yawning unconvincingly.

"I think I'll just go to bed."

"You sure you'll be all right?" Chandler asked, not particularly looking forward to returning to the party. She smiled faintly at him, reaching up to ruffle his hair fondly in the way he'd always hated.

"Awww, you're sweet. I wish all guys were like you."

Despite himself, Chandler smirked. "No you don't. Because then Ross wouldn't be Ross."

"Like that would be a bad thing," Rachel responded, but with no real malice. Chandler watched her disappear into her apartment before turning back to his own. As B-grade gangster movie as it sounded, he had a score to settle with Joey Tribbiani.

* * *

**AN: Okay, here it is, finally! Next chapter: more Mondler (duh!), Chandler and Ross have a conversation where Ross is not screaming and physical violence is exempt. I'm at 9l reviews now, so the 100th reviewer gets imaginary confetti. Whoot! How's that for an offer you can't refuse? Oh, and please read my drabbles :flutters eyelashes: There's one for Mondler fans (which everyone here is) and one for Randler (that's Rachel/Chandler) and one that's just focused on Chandler. **


End file.
